


From Rawsons to Adcocks

by AceDhampir



Category: CMSB
Genre: M/M, Mick's lil sis gets married and he probably donks Etan, Off screen mentions of sexual abuse, The word cock appears more times than it should, stereotypical rich British people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceDhampir/pseuds/AceDhampir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their biggest hit in years, Mick and Ethan go for a quiet, relaxing trip to Wales for his little sister's wedding, and maybe discover that there's some hidden feelings between the both of them. Rated Mature for smut that will be missing a few scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Three weeks pass before he's moving with minimum difficulty again, his ribs healed nicely and hand likely the same. He's dealt with worse, after all. Some of the worst cuts will leave scars for a short while, but due to his skin tone they don't stand out very much. Finally, he's ready to go again, and right on time. Today's the bit planned day...to try and make him look presentable for the wedding. 

"Mick, can I REALLY not just, like...wear what I usually do? Do we HAVE to go?" He's moaning and groaning like a petulant child as he waits  by the door, arms folded across his chest.

"No, actually, Ethan you know what," we'll just go naked. 'Ow bout that, eh? Wear nothing and ruin my poor sister's wedding because somebody doesn't want to look nice for one friggin' day. Sound good to you mate?"

Someone's stressed out. Probably because he's angry that the last flight to Wales he could get on his budget was economy and he's dreading the fact that he couldn't afford a hotel. Last thing he needed was to be staying in Cardiff. Especially with his grandmother. The two didn't exactly get along well anymore and Mick almost was afraid what her reaction to Ethan would be. Family was great.

"Stop your complaining for five minutes. I've talked it over with 'er and she's fine with like a dress shirt or something, khaki's, the whole bloody sort. But you're not wearing fucking.." he gestured around until his hand finally just motioned on Ethan overall. "That. Keep in mind that a majority of these people are English and will be all uppity about it. 'Specially that bastard she's shackin up with. Bite my fucking arse and call me a goddamn Taff I'll fucking taff his Goddamn face. Wot's my damn accent got to do with 'ow good I am anyway?"

"Right then, look," he sighed, implying an apology for snapping in the way he grabbed Ethan's shoulder and softened his voice. "We just got a few hours until the flight. I just need you to look nice. This is for my baby sister. She means everything to me."

It's a tired plea but he just really needs Ethan to work with him. The small month they spent together recovering seemed to do a lot more for Mick than he expected. Now he was just nervous and stressed again. A wonderful combination, given that he's about to be back home for the first time in so long.

Ethan looks something like a whipped dog at this point, cowering back from Mick's frustrated brother-of-the-bride-zilla explosion. "Fine. Ok. Semi-formal. I'll go to semi-formal. And I'll even button the shirt up the whole way." Wow. That's...that's actually compromise. Ethan's giving Mick what he wants, but there's one problem. "Ah...these people going to be miffed about tattoos? 'Cause I can't cover the one on my hand." Oh. Shit. That's a problem. At least he thought to ask. He's willing to really go out on a limb to make Mick happy for this moment, knowing the man is stressed and that he'll be the only possible source of relief from it through this trip. The deeply-set bruising on his ribs is almost completely gone, and he's almost ready to be back in action completely. What better way to stretch his legs than some globetrotting?

"Let's go. After you."

"Okay, good. Thank you. I appreciate it. And if someone causes a fuss I'm sure Jenna'll put 'er foundation on you or something or we'll punch 'em if they're related to Reginald. And I 'ope you remembered to tell your bloody boyfriend to stay put. Last thing I need is for the entire country to go on vampire hunt," he's joking while also being-semi serious. Mostly because of his own experience with a certain someone. Coughing against his shoulder, Mick grabbed for the door and flung it open, waiting for Ethan to exit and locked the door.

Thankfully, he had his car, so this whole thing wont take too long. He's got his back seat full of just two bland suitcases for the week. It felt weird, he was going home for the first time in years he was suddenly dreading it. Maybe he just got too used to staying in that apartment.

"We procrastinated this for a long time so I 'ope you're find with just some department store. We've got enough time for you to pick something and then we have to go. I'm sorry it's going to be a little bit rushed but I wasn't expecting us to get so caught up."

He's glad Ethan's going with him, really. If not he'd probably end up commiting a few murders, Jenna's idiot fiancé one of them. "Thank you. I really would've been fucked if you didn't come with me."

Ethan knows. Shamus told him one of the nights the vampire spirited him away for the obvious. At least he was gentle enough to not leave more injuries, right? No complaints from the hitman, either. Weirdos. Definitely made for each other.

About two days after their initial trials, Max showed up with a bag of five-thousand in twenties and Mick's rifle, in flawless condition. All is well once more, and as promised Ethan split it down the middle with Mick. They've got an extra set of eyes around what's become home now, too, and that will only further help them in the future.

"He'll stay put. Promise. I mean, I can't make him, but I can threaten to refuse him what he wants, and that will be good enough. I mean, that's more or less the reason he keeps me around, isn't it?" He's teasing, too. There's something of an emotional connection, but not a very strong one. He knows the relationship is superficial and based around sex. He's well aware, and he knows that it could break because of it. That won't cause him any stress, really, beyond one night of bad decisions.

"It's fine. I'll take care of it. Promise." Ethan reassures Mick as he slides in the car, buckling his seatbelt. "Really, thanks for inviting me. I'm glad I can go with you."

"You're welcome. I think Jenna will like you, she's like me, she just likes people. S'wot I taught 'er, kinda gave her an interest in strange folk who're different. You're defiantly interestin' and dfferent," felt good to talk about her. He was incredibly close to her, even a country apart and really only for her would he even be doing this. He felt naked leaving his rifle behind but be didn't have a need to bring it with him, it was as if ever since it was returned to him he couldn't separate it from his sight.

Mick drives to the closest Wal-Mart, really not wanting to waste time. He's trying hard not to rush Ethan but he can't help but feel like the entire world is moving at a snail's pace and time is going faster. He still has a lengthy drive to the air port, which will lead up to a ten hour flight. So much fun, that was. At least Mick was seasoned with flight, he didn't know how Ethan would fair but he's know when they'd get there.

Wal-Mart. The scourge of Arkansas, and more or less where everything Ethan has ever owned has come from. He gives one silent look to Mick that makes it clear exactly what he's thinking.  _Wow. What a great department store, you cheap bastard._  He's teasing, though. He gets out and stretches gingerly, still testing out his ribs, and heads in without so much as a limp from the new tattoo he bears proudly on his calf. It suits him, although it's rarely seen since he only ever wears pants...unless he's half-naked...or completely naked. But that's another story.

Time to get to work. This could be a challenge, and Mick would soon figure that out. Ethan's physique is just...wrong. Completely, fundamentally wrong. Pants are easy enough, but shirts have a tendency to just exaggerate his shoulders and how slim he truly is. This...is a pain in the ass.

"I'm about done. Seriously, done." Ethan is bitter about not being able to wear his running shoes at this point, not that he thought the bright green ASICS would really go with khakis. 

"Oh my God," if Mick could bash his head in, he would. "Just...just pick something man. Please."

Impatient isn't he? They still have plenty of time but Mick can't help but be anything but. Ethan did have a weird ass physique, which made this entire ordeal so much harder than it needed to be. Mick sighed, flipping through shirts and listening to Ethan grumble about, picking some things out he assumed would work.

"Look just find something that looks nice? Doesn't have to be a dress shirt or anything like that. Flannel, poofy pirate shirt, fuck I don't care. I'll buy it and maybe you could wear a jacket or something, I don't know," Mick's right, his general attire was hoodies and jeans. The only reason he's wearing a casual dress shirt now was to keep Jenna from thinking he was still homeless. What a great conversation that was the last time he talked to her.

 

"It's perfect, thank you," Mick's teasing kept him from going insane as he takes what Ethan's picked out. He's low on money but that's the reason he's made Ethan pick here. At least he gets to be in semi-casual wear; Mick has to wear a suit, something he hasn't worn since he was maybe in his teens and even getting fitted for it was the most uncomfortable thing in existence. So really, he has no sympathy, especially since he has to wear it far longer than Ethan has to deal with his load.

He takes care of that, which fortunately keeps him on schedule. "I never asked, 'ow are you in planes? Personally I'm not super into them but I want to be sure we don't need to make some special accommodations, y'know? I want this to be as painless as possible."

Ethan follows to checkout, still far more comfortable in his current attire. Cargo pants, a black t-shirt bearing the bold words "Take flight" and the little symbol that always accompanies it, and a mostly black hoodie with some green accents that Mick would know match his eyes, hidden though they are. He keeps up the brown contacts well, and it's for Mick's sake as well this time.  
Hi, sis. Hi, family-in-law. This is my date, Ethan. Don't freak out at his eyes. Or his apearance. Or how he talks. Please.  
"Planes are great. I love flying. Only problem is security- I can't go through a metal detector or bod scanner, obviously." He states it with a certain wry amusement. "Don't worry. I can and did make arrangements to bypass like pilots and government agents can. I'll be through security before you, that's all."

If Ethan was worried about anyone freaking out it would probably just be his grandmother. The woman was a witch, and it was quite obvious that she and Mick didn’t get along. At all. He had his guesses as to why, probably had to do with his father even though the man had been dead for twenty years now. And the Brits. But he was safe for the three days they’d be in Cardiff, and if he just didn’t climb on the hors d’oeuvres no one would notice. Or climb the rooms. Or the roof. Or anything. Mick made a mental note to make a “no parkour” rule if it ever came to needing one. But he trusted Ethan not to attempt anything that could set the Welshers or the Brits off. Last thing he needed, really.  

"Good. I’m glad. Really," Mick took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, paying for Ethan’s clothes before handing them back in a bag to the shorter man. "Christ this isn’t even my wedding and I’m nervous about it. I’m nervous about everything but this in particular, I’m just…shite y'know? Like I'll fuck it up for 'er some'ow."

A no parkour rule, dress clothes, and good behavior? It sounds like Ethan's on a leash. He'll behave for Mick, though, but he'll demand some kind of compensation for it, more than likely. Maybe chocolate will roll back the tide.

"Hey, it's your sister, bro. She means a lot to you. She's family. Family is important, and I'm glad you've got some. I won't embarrass you any more than my presence alone might. Promise." It doesn't sound like much, but it reveals he's conscious of the fact he knows the looks he's going to get. "Maybe I could talk with a German accent, really screw with them." He's kidding, obviously. That would probably make it worse.

"Hah, maybe. If any of 'em give you trouble I'll deal with it,"  _in more ways than one_ , he added silently. No murder rule seems like a killjoy, but then again he doesn't want the entire place to know what he does for a living; could come off bad for Jenna if her brother killed the groom's family and was outted as killer. Wouldn't that be fun to report to his boss. Then again, he did really,  _really_  hate those people...

"Anyway, it'll all probably be fine once I get more sleep," one of the good things about plane flights, excuse to sleep the entire ten hours and at least look a lot less like a man who completely exhausts himself day in and day out. Plus this would be like a mini vacation, right? God knows he needs it, Ethan probably too. "Jenna will pick us up once we land and let us borrow her car. In case you wanted to sight see or fuck around somewhere. So we wont be stuck in the 'ouse the entire time if you don't want to be. Plus,  we don't have to pay for the rental, which is somethin'."

He lead Ethan down the parking lot, unlocking his car and sliding in, staring at the steering wheel for a few moments before speaking again. "You ready? It's gonna be a while but it's best we leave now. You said you wont 'ave to go through security. I might be able to pull some strings and get me in faster but I doubt it'll really work. Hope you brought a book."

Ethan follows faithfully to the car, bag in hand. As for the airport, he has his backpack, and that's...it. It's all he owns, anyway. He's got a book, alright, and it's one he's read so many times he's lost count. The battered old copy of Heart of Darkness is well-loved. Upon the statement about security, he nods.

"I go through like pilots and government agents and Air Marshals. I'll wait for you on the other side." His tone is reassuring even as he buckles in, giving a brief little grin towards Mick.

The check in wasn't as bad as he expected, but Mick didn't get his clearance updated enough to allow a speedy check through. Even government IDs had him standing in line with everybody else, which if Mick wasn't in a hurry would be a fine and grand thing. Lucky bastard, he should have figured a way to sneak in with Ethan.

The ten hour flight wasn’t as bad. For Mick, at least. The second he laid back in his seat he was sound asleep, snoring softly and actually getting some solid rest. The wait for the flight took his mind off things and made it a little easier for the Welshman to deal.

When they landed though, he was completely different. Maybe it was being back home, but there was something different in him. He felt like he did years ago, full of life, smelling like cologne instead of cigarettes (though, to his credit, he’d been trying to quit, he was finally down to one a day), hair was lovely, really, done nice despite the fact he never got it cut, facial hair in check, he felt good, looked good. It was good to be home.

Pulling gently on Ethan’s hand he lead the other man to baggage claim, twitching his foot in nervousness as he waited for his bags to arrive. He looked around, brown eyes wild as he stood to his full height to scan the room, those ticks of his starting to become visible.

And then he saw her.

He nearly took off, forgetting his baggage and leaving it to Ethan, weaving through the small crowd of travelers before yanking a petite girl off her feet, wrapping her in a tight hug that almost squished her. For someone as thin as he was, sometimes he had a bit of power.

"Jenna love!" his voice was light, void of any of the harsh rasp he sometimes had as he hugged his sister, almost as if his trauma and issues were gone completely in her presence. Maybe this is what he needed.

Leading her back over to where he left Ethan, the other man could finally get a good look at her. Much, much shorter than Mick, same brown eyes and hair, pretty girl. Kind of put her brother to shame, really, not that Mick wasn’t handsome himself (when he put himself to rights), but there was a reason she was getting hitched to a CEO’s son. 

"Ethan, darling, this is my sister, Jenna," Mick smirked, obnoxiously happy for once in his life as he watched his sister extend her hand.

"He doesn’t stop talking about you," she smiled, sounding almost scouse in her accent, a lot of the Welsh inflection wasn’t present in her voice. She’d changed it for some reason, and Mick most definitely hated the reason why. "He says a lot of good things about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you."

Jenna is a cute little thing, especially next to Mick. That's what he thinks until he realizes he also looks rather small next to Mick. Then he stops the train of thought before he causes himself embarrassment. When introduced, he raises a hand and gives a little grin. "Hi. I can say the same. Mick talks about you a lot. You're his go-to subject when there's ever a moment of silence." He's not lying about that. She always comes up when things are rough and they're having some kind of heart-to-heart. 

He's not dressed up at the moment, obviously, and he hopes that isn't embarrassing Mick. In truth, that's his biggest worry right now at all. And while Mick said no parkour, he figures he can sneak out at night to enjoy this new and foreign city.

So here he is, an olive-skinned guy with an American accent, a lot of tattoos, and who looks very much like he just flew the ten or eleven hours to get here. He's hungry, worn out from the plane, but simultaneously too excited to dream of resting now. This is an adventure, the closest thing to a vacation he's been on in longer than he can remember.

Darling? Really? Ethan doesn't react to it, but maybe the brief glance he gives Mick shows enough of his thoughts on the matter. Surprise, humor, and question. That's new. 

"Does 'e?" she looked over at her brother, "Must be great conversation. Right we ready then? Busy busy," she spun on her heel, leading them outside to where her car was parked on the outside of the entrance, popping open the back of her tiny Land Rover so Mick could throw his things inside.

"Ah, Jenna love," he said suddenly before she unlocked the rest of the doors, pulling her aside for a moment. "Ah, <s _o uh, what do you think of him >_, eh?" Mick asked her quietly, trying to be low enough so that Ethan couldn't hear. And even if he could, not like Ethan spoke Welsh, right? " _< Do you like him?>_"

Jenna laughed like he just told her the funniest thing, catching what he wanted as she responded back. " _< He's very nice, is he your boyfriend>_?"

"Good, I'm glad," he glanced over at Ethan for a moment. "And no."

"What a disappointment. He's cute," what's that about? "Anyway, Reg needs me back tonight but I can drive you both around for now. He'll be waiting at Nan's and then you can drive back to the hotel. Anyone hungry? I didn't eat before I drove over 'ere."

"There's that Indian place still nearby, right? What you think E?" He couldn't remeber the last time he ate, probably long before they took off back in Detroit.

"...Your language is fu...weird." He catches himself for lack of not knowing whether he should or not. If corrected, he'll know when it's appropriate to use it or not. For now, though, he just catches it. The word becomes a huff of air, although Mick would probably know what almost happened. He's making a conscious effort, so points to him for that much.

"Indian sounds good. I'm down for that." He's down for anything that's food, just about. He gives a thumbs up and finally slips awkwardly in the back seat of the car and slings his backpack into his lap. It's rather cramped with their stuff, but it's alright.

He feels very out of place with conversations he doesn't understand going on, and he can't even speculate what it means. To spite Mick he might just switch to German...or worse, Vietnamese. Oh boy, that would be a headache.

"Sounds better than most of the gibberish you spew nowadays," Mick responded with a smirk. He didn't care if Ethan cursed around her, hell soon he'd see she was just as bad as her brother. That was his crowning achievement, teaching his little sister to swear like a sailor. Rawsons weren't the most proper bunch anyhow.

Sliding into the passenger seat it took Mick a few seconds to readjust; he'd gotten used to American vehicles and the switched seats confused him for a second. Probably looked even more ridiculous when he tried to grab an invisible wheel. But his confusion was interrupted by the brush of cold fingers on his neck. 

"Where you get this, hmm?" Jenna asked, gently touching the scars before Mick pulled away; the sniper covering it with his hand and clearing his throat. 

"Nowhere. S'fine, really. Bit of an accident."

"Right," she didn't believe that for a second. Smart girl. "So ah, Ethan, you run the 'business' with my brother? S'at 'ow you two know each other?"

"Yeah. Yeah, something like that." He responds with a grin. "We had a rocky first meeting but it worked out really fast. You know, when things are just meant to happen?  _Ende gut, alles gut endet._  That's what some poet or something said, anyway." He asks her, out of sheer curiosity, a bit of information he's missing. "So what's his name? The lucky guy?" Time to draw questions away from Mick. If he has to talk about himself a little bit, he will. Mick will recognize most of it as complete and utter bullshit, though. He likes to make up lives for the more innocent members of society so that they don't get dragged into the mire of shit he calls a workplace.

"Reginald Adcock," she said it with such flare and excitement that it took all of Mick's willpower not to slam his face into the dashboard. "'His dad owns a toothpaste company out in London. Kinda bizarre, innit? But I'll be teachin'. He's been helping me get set up at one of the schools there so I'll 'ave work after the move."

"Who the fuck marries an asshole with the name Cock?"

"It's Adcock, Micky. And shut up, I 'appen to adore 'em, you know."

"Arf."

"He's a...nice guy. Really. I mean he comes off a bit rash and kind of a jerk but, really inside he's sweet. I think we all know someone like that."

Mick grumbled to himself, clearly not happy with the subject change. And that he knew exactly who she was referring to. Reginald Adcock, the name alone told anything that this guy was a royal douchebag. And well, Mick practically raised her himself, his protectiveness over her was understandable. Even a country away.

"But yeah, you'll get to meet him tonight."

Ethan holds his tongue on the matter of the name, but he freezes in sudden realization. "Wait...tonight? What's tonight? Tonight isn't the ceremony, is it?" Uh, oh. IS it? Shit, that puts a damper on his plans. "Nobody gave me an itinerary, so I'm a bit lost." He laughs somewhat nervously and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous reaction, gaze dropping momentarily. "But congrats, either way. You adore him? Go for it. After all, it's your happiness you're after, not a brother's. He can find it some other way, eventually." No maybe attached. What's THAT supposed to mean, then? Is that his equivalent of "darling?" He leaves Mick to figure it out before he speaks again.

"I've never been to this part of this country before, so pardon my ignorance."

"No no it's not tonight," she was laughing, and even Mick snorted a bit before she continued. "You've got yourself a few days at least. Time to sightsee, try out the food, stuff like that. I'm sure Mick wants to show you Swansea and all that fun stuff. Plus get outta that jet lag, eh?" she then gently punched her brother's arm. "Did you not tell 'em?"

"I may have neglected details, luv. I was busy."

"The poor sod. Got 'em all riled up." 

Pulling into The Cinnamon Tree parking lot, Jenna again took lead and chatted the entire way up to the entrance. That was a severe difference between her and Mick, while they both had a strange sense of humor, Jenna was a leader while Mick was a soldier. Sort of balanced them out, contrasting them in a way. Certainly showed how much of a civilian she truly was. 

"What about you, hmm? Boyfriend, girlfriend? Whatever you're into?" she asked Ethan when they where seated, Jenna nearly yanking Mick's hand to get him to sit beside her. The question made Mick snort. He was aware of Ethan's relationships, it'd be interesting to see how he'd play it off. 

"Good. That would be a mess, at least for me. I'd probably pass out midway through and fall off my seat." He's not joking. He gets out after both of them and follows, hanging back to flank the rear. By those terms, what's Ethan, anyway? Is there even a classification? He's no soldier, but he's definitely a leader of his own community. He's been around soldiers long enough to know he'd never fit that bill. He's more than a thug, though, and while college wasn't for him he's hardly dull when it comes to wits. It leaves one to wonder just what would have happened if his life had turned out somewhat differently.

The smells are fantastic as they enter, and as soon as he's seated across from them he abruptly feels like he's about to be observed and interrogated like some rare animal. It makes his stomach drop a bit, because the spotlight is not a place he likes to be. He busies himself with the menu and glance sup at the question.

"Gender doesn't really dictate whether I'll go for someone or not." That's an easy way to put it. It leaves some ambiguity and doesn't mention the fact he's poly. "I've had both, in the past." And the present. But, hey, why bring that up to someone who's about to get married? People tend to have a harder time accepting the whole "multiple partners" thing than they do anything else.

"Ah, I see," she was aware of her brother's sexuality, honestly she was probably as indifferent as he was about it. Still, he was weird, so her curiosity in Ethan was understandable. Mick wasn't known for having friends, really, not since he fell off the Earth and only started keeping contact with her through phone calls on a cell he changed regularly.  SO why not find out what she can about this weirdo he's brought with him?

Topic change! 

"I think it's good you came, Ethan" she said casually when drinks were brought over, water for them and whatever Ethan wanted. She way paying anyway, which put some stress off Mick's shoulders about his monetary issues. "Fell free to get what you want. I need to wash up," she turned to Mick. "You know what I like, yeah?"

He watched her leave and shifted, ordering some curry dish for her when the waitress arrived and then glanced over at Ethan. "You doing alright? She likes you, which is a good thing. But then again, she likes everyone," he leaned back. "I might try and persuade her to just drop us off at the hotel and get a taxi to Swansea. It's still pretty early and I've just got no energy to chat with people I hate, y'know?"

"I picked up on that. No clue why. But you did, too, eventually, so I guess it runs in the family." He teases, having already ordered when it was his turn to. "Straight to a hotel, huh? Ok. That's fine with me. I could use the rest, and if I can't sleep I can go get in some "trouble" that won't actually get me in trouble. Unless you...well, Promise." There's another bit he was going to add on to that phrase, but he left it out. What could that have been, then?

"I like it here. Can't imagine staying, though. I've only seen a bit, I know, but...it's different. Not as fucking ridiculous as your language, though."  Ethan will toy with Mick about that for ages, more than likely.

Unless he what? Unless...Oh. Mick wouldn't object. Maybe. Depended on what Ethan actually meant by "trouble" and if it was the same as what Mick thought it meant. 

"Makes you feel any better, not many people speak it anymore. I only know what I know because my Nan refuses to speak English. Some bloody 'pride' things she 'as going on. If you ask me it's easier to speak than read, it's almost all keyboard smashes and jumbles. Jenna can read it though, which I guess is good for 'er."

That's a bit rough to his own language, but Mick doesn't care, not really. Seeing Jenna make her way back to the table, he leaned in to mutter "We'll see what you 'ave in mind for trouble when we 'ead back, eh?" before leaning back and sliding over to let her in

"You've got yourself a deal." Ethan replies with a cheeky little grin before he fiddles with his napkin and then utensils as well. "Jenna, how'd you meet Reginald?" God, that's an uncomfortable name. He doesn't show it, though, and he's playing good so far. "I hear he's some big CEO. Talk about a lofty job! You've gotta have a good story behind that one, right?" He sips at his water- just water, of course, because that's all he ever seems to drink- and waits for his answer, something like a kid sitting across from their parents at a table.

That's awkward.

"I was teaching up in Berry when I met him at a fundraiser. Cheeky bastard offered me a drink, and then a date, so on and on. Reg is the love of my life, really, as much as it's cliche to say," she replied once she adjusted herself, "And 'e's not a CEO, not yet, at least. Soon, though, which is exciting, I guess. I mean, he's really a sweet guy under all that rich British boy exterior. Somethin' you'd think somebody," she glanced at Mick, "would understand, that exterior doesn't equal interior."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know you, Micky."

The food, thankfully, was brought by and Mick happily inhaled the smell of curry, something he didn't really get to have any of nowadays. Well, he just hadn't had time to see if there were any Indian restaurants in his new home. Maybe when they got back he'd ask Ethan about it. 

"Maybe if 'e can't get approval from my brother, 'e can get some from you. You seem like you got a good eye for character, and if at least someone would like 'em, I'd be happy," she's teasing, but Mick can't help but feel a little hurt. Still, maybe he was being a little judgmental. 

"Me? Good judge of character?" Ethan seems seconds from a barking laugh, but he holds it in as best as he can regardless of his expression. On the menu for him? Chicken Tikka Masala, staying relatively plain and simple but enjoying it never the less. Hey, none of this is on his wallet at the moment. He's more than grateful for the meal, and he intends to show it. Not just the meal, but this opportunity as a whole, really.

"I can't judge people from any walk of life well. So to my eyes, everyone's great until proven otherwise." It's a solid way to live, really.

"That’s a good way to live by. I’m impressed," she smirked, looking almost like her brother in the way she did it. "There 'onestly need to be more people who think like that."

The complement is true, really, Ethan's way of thinking is rare, at least with most people. That makes it easy to appreciate.

 

Finishing up his meal, Mick sighed and rubbed at his face, wincing when he realized he'd used his bad hand to do it. He still hadn't bothered to have it looked at, first he thought it was just sprained but now he assumed it was fractured. Wonderful, just another thing he needed. It probably wont set right, now, but he didn't exactly have time to worry about it.

"You alright?" Jenna's voice made him jump.

"Yeah, tired. Slept on the way 'ere but I've spent the past month barely sleeping. I ah, 'ad somethin' to take care of."

"If you want I can drop you off at the hotel, I mean if Ethan doesn't mind missing out on the family. With you're grumpy attitude I'm sure it's better. An' don't want you and Nan flyin' off the 'andle." she looked over to Ethan and winked. "There's a specific reason 'e 'asn't been home in so long. If you ask me 'e deserves it."

More teasing, Mick does indeed deserve it though. 

"S'up to him. What you think, E?" Mick asked him, brown eyes almost screaming  _please don't make me go there._ Ethan doesn't know his situation, not really, not completely. If he decides to head out and meet with Reg and his family and what's left of Mick's he'll find out. If not, Mick will probably tell him on his own time.

Ethan reads the plea on Mick's face as he finishes his meal with two last bites, chewing thoughtfully almost as if he just wants to make Mick squirm. Eventually, his lips twitch into a short, quickly-falling grin and he speaks. "Well, I'm pretty tired, too. I could do with some rest at the hotel. I think Mick's idea is a good one, regardless of why that's his preferred option. I'll vote the same, thanks, Jenna." He puts down his fork and settles back with a satisfied sigh, reaching for his water to finish it off before setting the glass- devoid of liquid and ice- down on the table once more. All's well that ends well.

"Unless there are objections?"

"If you boys are ready I am," strange for a woman in her early twenties to be calling men in their thirties "boys", but Mick at least found it funny. Showed how much older she was getting, too. Maybe he was still so used to her being his little sister, and not this successful woman.

Paying for their meal with a check and arguing with Mick until she let him cover the tip, she slid over to let him out. He was glad she wasn't judging him for skipping out on family; there was only so much he could handle for one day and ten hours on a flight and the overwhelming sensation of being home seemed to derail him.

The car was more or less silent on the way to the hotel besides small talk, which Mick appreciated. He knew most of what she'd been doing over the past years since he left, teaching, her schooling, but it was still nice to hear her talk about it and even engage in a couple conversations with Ethan before dropping them off. She did, however, force her brother to promise to bring Ethan back to their grandmother's late tomorrow. He did, promising also to be less aggressive with everyone before kissing the side of her head goodbye and removing his things, waiting until she took off before heading in the hotel.

The hotel was nice, a moderate building that looked less cheap than it was, nice paint, obvious new renovations like a garden slowly being made and the promise of working AC in every room, a working elevator to Mick's relief with his bags, and checking in was a smoother process than he normally had to deal with. Really, the entire trip so far had been painless. 

Making their way to their room, he fumbled with the keys before sliding it in and clicking open the door to reveal their room. Two beds, something Mick wasn't used to seeing. And well, it was just a habit, wasn't it? It wasn't like Mick had developed some kind of separation anxiety, right? Plus, their apartment only had one bed. Why was he so confused about this?

Ignoring it and dumping his things on the bed farthest from the window, thinking Ethan will probably parkour himself out at some point., and really he just liked being by the door. Paranoia, maybe, but for him, it made sense.

"Trust me," he said finally when he was settled, sitting on the end of the bed and running his fingers through his hair to ground himself a little more. "Running on empty and seeing the folks? Not the best combination. Be lots of fighting and screaming, and I don't think I can 'andle that, y'know?"

Ethan rides up to the room with his backpack slung across his shoulders and his leather jacket tucked over one arm. He came prepared for weather he's not used to, just in case. He will likely be proven smart to do so, at the rate things have been going for him lately. When they're up in the room, he eyes the two beds with an arched eyebrow and a huffed exhale. Well, of course Jenna wouldn't assume they slept together, literally. It didn't exactly start out as anything more than there being one bed, after all. He hasn't been alone at night in a while, but he can deal with it. He has a feeling, though, that Mick's stress over what has brought them here will dictate he probably crawls in with the Welshman, regardless of the space issues if the beds aren't very large. He can make it work, and of this he's certain.

Ethan's great with the window, considering he likes the view and prefers to be AWAY from the door. If trouble bursts through it, he bursts straight out. It seems that the two have very different instincts.

When all is settled, he sits on the edge of his bed, but catty-cornered so he's facing Mick as he does so on the edge closest to the other bed. "I don't want to see that happen to you right now, anyway, much less somehow end up involved." He hesitates for a moment, but then abruptly stands, kicking off his shoes. Maybe it comes from having spent time around someone who demands them and is pent up all the time, but he's fairly certain Mick's shoulders could use a bit of attention.

He crawls onto the bed behind Mick, sits down cross-legged, and proves himself a surprisingly good masseur. Unless told to fuck off or maybe more politely given the same command, he continues and speaks up again.

"Bad blood, huh?"

Jesus Christ that felt good. Like, surprisingly good. He had to be tense as fuck, as far as he knew, Mick's never had a proper massage. He felt his eyes roll in the back of his head and almost barely heard Ethan's question.

"Indeed," it takes all of Mick's self control to actually speak. He nearly swayed with where Ethan's hands rolled, rocking slightly and through enjoying it. "We just..."  _fucking Christ that feels good_  "We ah, just don't all get along. My Nan and I were fine for a long time, when we bounced around in foster care she took us in after Mum and Dad died, was all civil and everything. Hated my father, though, guess I looked enough like 'em when I was older to warrant 'er hate too."

It's sad, but it's true. But his grandmother was his only relative outside of Jenna, so it's natural he'd hand on, even as much as he hated it, to every piece of family he had left. Maybe it was just his fear of being alone. Though right now, with the number Ethan was doing on his shoulders, he was starting to care less and less. 

"But really I'm worried about Jenna. Worried she's gonna make the same mistake I almost did. And I'll end up fucking something up for 'er." What's this then? Micky have a secret? "Did I...I ever tell you I was gonna be a civ? Marry some girl and 'ave kids and shit, move back to Swansea?"

Ethan doesn't stop, using his practiced hands to further work Mick down from his stupor. If he's this captivated by it now, just imagine what he'd be like if Ethan convinced him to take off his clothes and just cover with a towel. It's a surprising skill, but definitely a very welcome one. He can put a lot of directed pressure into what he does due to the strength in his hands and arms. Thanks, cybernetics.

He listens, not commenting until asked a question. "You never mentioned it, no. And that's not the kind of question I usually ask, so I let things like this come out on their own if they need to." His tone is soft and his thumbs roll across Mick's shoulderblades gently, fingers curled over the collarbones themselves.

"Course not. Never told anyone," Ethan has the hands of a god, that was for certain. it took Mick a couple of seconds before he continued. "I was maybe twenty, nineteen? I don't remember. Had a date and place, even bought 'er a ring on every cent I 'ad when my Nan kicked me out. Caught 'er with someone else, broke it off, went on to the army because I couldn't afford living expenses and I just needed to do something. Started sleeping around for a while, staying numb to relationships for a long time. I just...I don't want 'er to get hurt, don't want her to find out he's not what she thought. I don't trust the man, you understand, right? She's my little sister."

His protectiveness is understandable, and well, he was gone for so long that it was hard to believe her world could move on. Ethan's massage doesn't make him feel better about this, but it does relieve the stress, something he desperately needs. At least he gets someone to listen out of this. Relaxing a little more, Mick lets himself sag a bit and just mumbles to himself, feeling his tension finally relieve.

"I want 'er to make the right choice and not end up like I am," he said suddenly, straightening up a bit. "Depressed, fucked up, lonely. She doesn't deserve it."

"Depression and being fucked up aren't things that can be changed." He states it softly, his voice cool and small as he makes it clear he'd never downplay the other's problems. They're real, they're open and raw, and they're serious. For a moment, his hands slow, and he leans in, now pressing against the other's back in this moment of pause. "But you don't have to be lonely." His words are a warm whisper so close to Mick's ear it would likely be enough to draw chills. The massage continues now, although softer, and it goes down Mick's arms slowly until his hands could break course and intertwine with those of the man before him.

It's then he takes the leap. Come what may, he knows he won't regret it. His steady breathing leads to warm air trailing from Mick's ear down his neck, where a soft kiss is placed. It's a small thing that lasts mere moments, but it is not fleeting in intensity.

He's sedated enough now that he doesn't flinch, doesn't react except for an exhale. Mick was still raw from Shamus' "fun time", but his intense trust in Ethan keeps him from panicking. Surprisingly, that's the only thing. His head swarms the instant he feels Ethan's lips on his neck, for some reason, this is nothing like the kiss they shared on the rooftop a month ago. It's different somehow. He shivers, not because he's uncomfortable but because he's confusing himself. The intense mixture of emotions makes him vulnerable, and he hates how that feels.

"E?" he's confused, and rightfully so. He's not used to gentleness, not really, not after he was marked. "Help me?" he asked, sounding both confused and frightened. "Please?"

What was he doing? What was he asking for? He didn't know anymore, he just hoped Ethan did.

Ethan senses the confusion, the fear. He knows. Shamus told him, and while he played it off he did not approve of how that went down. His touch is gentle and his hands intertwine with those of Mick now,  a second kiss placed on Mick's jaw. He can only stretch so far behind the man, but he does it regardless. He speaks softly, tone warm and gentle.  
"I don't want anything you don't want, Mick. I promise. I won't push you. If you're not ready for anything, we won't, ok? I promise." He reassures the man softly before his arms wrap around Mick's shoulders in a gentle hug. He shifts until he's resting on his knees, now leaving small kisses along the jaw and even neck again, simply because he can.

"I know what happened, with Shamus. I know what that's like. If you wanted to switch roles I'd be ok with it, if that makes it more comfortable for you." He opens the doors, opens the options, and fills in the fear-formed cracks as best as he can with gentle, quiet words.

"No we...we don't need to switch," he's a submissive, throwing him in a dominate role would just set him off balance, especially like this. He leaned his head back, relaxing again finally, exhaling before just letting it go. He was a right mess, it was amazing Ethan even wanted to be around him now. 

"I need this. Please, I need..." how does he say this? He hasn't been touched like this in a very, very long time. Maybe not ever? Sex life with Prophet was non existent; the few girlfriends he had and random partners were all too quick and jarring, never soft and slow. Never like this. "I need to let go. Please."

There it was. He's letting Ethan do what he wants. There's incredible trust in that; more than Mick's put in anybody in a very long time. Losing that trust would probably lose him. It's something Mick doesn't need to think about but does anyway; in the end, everyone went away. Past loss and past experience proved that much.

Mick helps him, the fear and uneasiness fading when he noticed just how fucking gentle Ethan is being. It’s kind of jarring, a stark contrast to how Shamus handled him. It doesn’t shake him anymore, just sorts of has him cower down. He’s nervous he’ll fuck this up, but for him it isn’t new. He just knows he needs release.

Watching him do his thing not used to being on his back, the second Ethan kisses him that nervousness disappears, and instead he kisses him back, letting Ethan do what he wants with the trust he’s put into the other man. He hesitates touch at first; still trying to build up some kind of courage to keep himself from panicking. And then he forces himself, shoving everything away and gently touching Ethan’s sides, mindful of the injuries there. Strangely, though, it was pretty hard to focus on that and Ethan at the same time.

Ethan takes it slowly, and he does so very much on purpose. He knows that not only is the man less experienced, but that he’s had lots of trauma in his life and has every reason to move cautiously. He’s healed well, save for a few thin scabs and white scars here and there that will likely fade away completely before too much time has passed. He doesn’t flinch at any touch even if it does hurt a little, not wanting to scare Mick off or make him think he’s breakable. His kiss is deep and passionate, and soon it becomes a little more as his tongue invades. He positions himself keenly and grinds his hips down for a little while before he pauses, any remaining or in the way clothing tossed away as if it were meaningless. His kisses part from Mick’s lips now, a hand trailing down his stomach to his navel, fingers light and touch warm. The other hand remains planted beside his partner, holding him up. The wandering fingers trail down further before they reach their mark.

The path down halts for the briefest of moments as he leans in to plant a few small kisses along Mick’s jawline, but shortly after his fingers curl about their mark and very slow, deep pumps are given, almost as encouragement. His hand moves away and he lowers his own hips to grind again, letting friction do the work for him.

He slowly works Mick’s legs further apart with his knees as he begins to move into a better position for what’s ahead for them, but he’s in no rush at all. He’s attentive and active to the faintest of sighs or exhales, the nonvocal reactions read just as masterfully as he begins to move with the other. He’s taking his time, but he’s not wasting it.

His breath is stuttered out and he keeps his blunt nails dug into the other man’s skin to ground himself. He needs it; the only way he’ll keep himself sane is remembering that Ethan is real and that what’s happening is real.

When Ethan touched him he moaned, rolling his head back as the pleasure starts to overwhelm him. He doesn’t remember it ever feeling like this, actually warm and kind instead of fights for control and dominance. Tiring of those fights and how it could feel why way Mick had chosen the submissive, and his inexperience with sex made him jittery but the slowness keeps him calm. He responds to Ethan’s encouragements, wanting this and letting the other man direct him. It keeps him focused on everything else and helps him realize that this is good. He’s not hiding anything, or at least, not trying to. He just hopes he doesn’t disappoint Ethan. The last time he was a disappointment…it didn’t end well.

Ethan fumbles for a moment as he reaches over to the bedside dresser and finds exactly what he’s looking for within the top drawer. Complements of the hotel, just as he figured. There’s lube, and even a condom. He’d better ask, to be polite. “Do you want me to use one?” Just to get all his bases covered, he feels it appropriate to ask. As he waits for his answer, he’s got the packet open and his fingers coated as he slowly shifts to tilt Mick’s hips up a bit further, moving down somewhat as he does so and allowing a single finger to past his partner’s cock before finding exactly what he’s looking for. The pressure he applies to his partner’s entrance is gentle, and it’s a slow, careful massaging circle he moves in to prepare before slowly adding pressure and guiding one fingertip inside, just to test and to make sure he doesn’t go too far. A second is soon to follow, but he holds them still for a moment before he shallowly pumps them, fingers arched and curled.

"S’not like I can get pregnant, eh?" the joke shows how comfortable he is, which is rare. Usually he was silent, "Just in case. Not like I don’t trust you but the safety…"

He hopes Ethan understands. Better to be safe than sorry, really.

The entire time Ethan touches him he’s a mess, the shorter man sure does know how to make his partners moan, doesn’t he? Still, it feels damn good, and Ethan’s experience keeps him calm. At least he’s relaxed, the preparation something Mick appreciates. Either not enough partners know about prep, or not enough actually do it. But it feels good enough for him to actually having someone care enough to actually make sure he’s comfortable. Very rare, probably this would be the first time.

"Of course." There’s no complaint. He asked for a reason, and that’s because not only is Mick nervous, he hasn’t made it clear he does or doesn’t want one to be used. He tries his best to read his partners completely in that fashion, and while most say no he always accommodates whoever does want it. There’s nothing wrong with that.

The gentle pumps of his fingers pause until a third is slowly added and pushed in as well, a bit quicker this time and not quite taking as long to penetrate with. He twists his wrist a bit and strokes the upper wall with a sort of “come hither” motion he’s learned tends to get a good reaction before he pauses and pulls back to get the condom into place as requested. He’s generous with the lubricant, giving himself a couple of pumps before he shifts his position, between Mick’s legs, and rocks forward and back against the other’s crack, nudging at the target but never actually moving to enter. The friction is nice. He pauses and leans down for a soft kiss before he hovers close and he asks a few quiet words.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

That sounds confident, Mick swallows, adjusting himself so that he’s more comfortable, and waited for Ethan to make his move. He appreciates this, really, and honestly so long as Ethan doesn’t hurt him he’s fine with whatever he wants to do with him. Mick’s long hands are curled into the sheets to keep himself steady.

Ethan knows what he’s doing, and Mick prepares himself, breathing slowed but his heart was actually racing. Man was so thin that if Ethan looked hard enough he could probably see him shake because of it. But now, he was ready.

Ethan is a gentle and attentive and he positions himself carefully before he gently shifts Micks hips to turn up a bit more with his hands and then presses forward to enter. Resistance keeps it slow, and he doesn’t ever force anything. Once he’s past the tight band of muscle, he slowly creeps forward further, breathing deeply as he begins his complete first motion within the man below him. It’s slow and careful, and after a moment or two of pushing further he always pauses, planting small kisses and murmuring encouraging words. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, he’s all the way in, the flesh of his hips and legs flush against that of Mick. He holds there, going for a deep and passionate kiss, giving Mick’s lower lip a gentle little tug between his teeth. He lets it go and murmurs softly.

"How are you feeling?" He’s not about to start thrusting away until his partner is comfortable. His hips rock softly, moving his length ever so softly back and forth to a tiny degree, just to hint he’s ready for motion whenever Mick is.

Ethan’s entering feels warm and Mick moved his hands to claw gently down the other’s back, exhaling and returning the kiss Ethan’s planted, moving his left hand to brush against Ethan’s skin, finger tips just lightly touching the scuff on his face. The continued contact help him calm and he rested his injured hand out of the way, not wanting to fuck it up more than it already was. And then Ethan did something that made a moan vibrate in his throat.

Oh God, biting. Ironically, Ethan’s found his weakness.

“‘M fine,” he muttered out, sounding almost hoarse in how just sedated he was. Then again, that damn accent made him always sound weird. Mick shifted his hips, encouraging him to move when he wanted.

Ethan murmurs softly. “Good.” His lips trail across Mick’s jaw once more with soft little kisses until he abruptly pulls back from them and slowly pulls himself back before giving a push back inside in his first, slow thrust. There’s a moment of pause before he does it again, and now the rhythm is set. He’s in no hurry. He’s not establishing dominance or just taking his pleasure. Not here, not now, not tonight. This is an emotional connection, and he’s treating it as such.

Ethan picks up speed now, hips rolling softly as he pushes the pace even faster, now at a steady and deep tempo that allows both to acutely feel the other’s presence. He leans his head down once more, hovering for another kiss before he murmurs quietly.

"You’re so tight." Oh, a bit of dirty talk? Seems he’s into that. He changes his angle ever so faintly, encouraging Mick to shift with him. His hand moves, bringing one of his partner’s leg up so that it crooks behind his back and rests on his hips as he moves. This change allows him to strike that spot within that draws up an overwhelming sensation. For some it’s pure pleasure. For others, it’s a wordless thing that is all at once overwhelming and wonderful. Whatever the case may be, he knows how to strike it repeatedly from angle alone. He bends down and takes Mick’s lower lip between his teeth again, a somewhat mischievous but impassioned glint in his eyes. He’s willing the other to be vocal.

The second Ethan finds his tempo, Mick moans to show he approves, hand moving down from his face to drag down his back, legs rubbing against his and he moves to relieve the pressure, following Ethan and managing to keep himself on the same rhythm for a few moments, occasionally rocking out of place just on inexperience but he manages to make up for it only moments later.

At first he could barely hear Ethan over the blood pounding in his ears. He seriously wants dirty talk? Mick could barely think straight at it was, everything was flooding in and out of his head ever second and he could barely think on his feet, much less with his dick.

"Thank you?" it’s about all he can muster out after almost minutes of silence, trying to come up with something, anything, but the way he says it is so light pitched and raspy, absolutely nothing like his usual voice ,and the sound of it makes him scoff. 

And then he’s just laying there, laughing hysterically, trying to keep himself from crying as he rolled his head back, covering his face with his good hand as he’s heaving, actually struggling to breath with how ridiculous the idea of dirty talk was coming from him. 

"I’m so sorry!" He sounds like an idiot, and he’s trying very hard to catch his breath to assure Ethan his laughter isn’t his fault. "Christ I’m sorry!" Usually by now, he’s crying out in Welsh to touch an language kink or having his face shoved so far into a mattress. But right now, he just felt ridiculous that he couldn’t even respond with something besides a  _goddamn thank you_.

It felt good, though. He just hoped he hasn’t turned Ethan off. Knowing him, he probably managed to do more than that. “OH God, I am so sorry. I’m such a fucking idiot Christ. I fucked it up, didn’t I?”

The thank you takes a second to digest, but he’s laughing to in a matter of seconds, almost hysterically. When Mick freaks out in fear that he just turned Ethan off and ended this prematurely, he only laughs harder. “Ok. No dirty talk with you. Understood.” He teases and makes it clear he’s not offended, a grin cracking across his lips as he finally adjusts them back to the rhythm they had before with a little grin on his face. It’s odd to him to have this moment be humorous as well as sensual, but that doesn’t mean he dislikes it. He’s been learning that different is good, and he’s willing to push that envelope here with no hesitation.

Mick’s a new partner in bed, which means he needs to learn likes and dislikes, fears and withholdings, and just about everything else for them to be able to enjoy their time together fully. He knows how it works, and he’ll make sure it all comes together neatly. He’s loving this so far. The lighter mood has been fantastic, and maybe it’s just what he needed.

As much as he’d like for this to go on forever, he doesn’t think that’s possible for much longer. Maybe it’s the new partner, maybe it’s the fact this is the first time he’s been top in a while. Whatever it is, he knows he’s closing in. A hand trails to give Mick’s cock a few steady pumps that are timed opposite his thrusts. He’s not going to neglect the other. His touch is careful and gentle, the thumb flicking across the slit quite frequently and his grip curved just right to cause the perfect amount of tickling and friction.

He’s glad. If he fucked this up, who knows what it could do to their friendship? Outside of maybe two other people, not including Shamus, of course, Mick had very little. There was always that fear that if he messed something up, he’d lose this. Which right now, was the last thing he wanted.

When Ethan grabs him, though, those thoughts are shoved aside. Mick’s close, mostly do to his terrible inexperience and just being dry for so long, and well, Ethan’s good at what he does, and Mick’s breath is quickened as the pressure is built, hand moving back to claw down Ethan’s chest, taken almost all his self control not to use his other hand as well. He’s amazed, actually, how Ethan was able to pick it back up so quickly after his fumble. Admirable, really.

"E? I need to…," how does he ask again? Damn he was rusty. Hopefully Ethan was the same way, too, but it never hurt to warn him. Especially if the other man didn’t care for a mess.

"Come? Good. I’d be doing horribly if you didn’t." Ethan doesn’t stop with his pumps, and it’s clear a mess is the last of his worries. He pushes Mick a bit faster now, some of his gentle care gone only because he knows they’re both close. He’s not turning Mick over or shying away from what he knows is going to happen. They’ve got a shower, after all, and another clean bed. Besides, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hips rock a bit harder now, and with it his pumps come the same. He’s encouraging it, although wordlessly, and he can’t stop the moan that rocks from his lips as he gets ever closer himself. He’s trying to hold out as long as he can and hopefully get Mick there first, but it doesn’t work that way. With a gasp and a moan he reaches orgasm, a few more powerful and deep thrusts rocking from him as he rides it out with more bucks of his hips until he’s grinding up against his partner. The whole time, though, the pumps never stop.

It was more or less a fear that Ethan would shove him aside. Every partner usually did, save for a few females if they used protection. Ethan just casually saying the word he needed assured him that at least he won’t be judged for being early.

Ethan’s rougher movements are welcomed, and Mick tries to compensate and tries to post to keep up with the momentum. He lets go, the orgasm accompanied by a few broken worlds muttered in his language before release, leaning up to cover his mouth on the crook of Ethan’s neck to keep himself from crying out as he comes.

The end result has Mick nearly flinging himself back on his back, head rolled back and hair sticking to the side of his face from sweat. His hand falls from Ethan’s body and his breathing is heavy, he coughs a few times to the side to avoid hitting Ethan’s face and he relaxed. It felt good, his trust was kept and really, he wouldn’t object to this again.

Ethan is left breathless and sweaty as well, and he grins down at Mick before he pulls free and gets the condom off, tossing it neatly into the trashcan by the bed before he goes in for another kiss, simply because he can. He doesn’t quite know what to say at this point, so he merely falls into bed beside Mick and remains there, silent for a moment, before a hand snakes over to attempt to give Mick’s a squeeze. He looks over as he catches his breath, grinning like an idiot.

It takes Mick a few moments to pull himself together. His breathing came back to him, but he reveled in the slight aches he could already feel. Nothing like what Shamus did to him, that was for sure. 

Relaxing when he felt Ethan shift, incredibly pleased with what happened, and finding delight when he kisses him again. He needed this, just something that could take the edge off he'd been building up for so long. Really, he could get used to it.

"Thank you," he feels ridiculous saying that, but then again he's obnoxiously polite. And he wants Ethan to know it was appreciated. the fear of being taken advantage of or used was so raw that he was still having trouble believing it was happening. And had happened. "I needed that. I'm...thank you."

There was the idea of driving out to Swansea tonight. Right now? Mick just wanted to sleep it off. He'd make it up in the morning, he supposed. Tomorrow would be the rehearsal, something Ethan didn't have to go to and Mick wasn't really dreading anymore. Weird. He was in an incredibly good mood now.

"You're so welcome. Thank YOU." He means it, and while he finds Mick's reactions to all of this humorous he understands the younger man isn't in nearly the same position he is. He doesn't feel like moving right away, and so he doesn't. He's going nowhere, and he wants to make sure Mick knows that much. Finally, though, after some comfortable minutes of silence and small talk, he shifts.

"I'm going to go shower. Figure we'll sleep in the other bed, huh?" He winks and slides out of bed before moving off to clean off. The sound of running water follows shortly after. He cleans up quickly and towels off before moving back to bed, nabbing his boxers simply because he doesn't like to sleep nude. He puts them on and crawls in, figuring Mick will do whatever he wants before joining him. He HOPES the man will come join him, that is.

He waited for Ethan to finish his thing before cleaning himself. His head was still swimming but he felt too tired and relaxed to care; for the first time in a long time he just felt good. Drying himself off and washing his face again for good measure at the sink, Mick stretched and pulled his suitcase off the floor to yank out a wrinkled shirt and torn sweatpants, his usual sleep attire, and walked out, eyeing both beds for a moment before making his choice.

It was strange how easy it was now to just slide in beside him, before it was mostly because it was the only bed in the flat. Now? He just slid in, scooting close to Ethan and threw his arm over the other man, face pressed against his shoulder and he blinked a few times before clearing his throat. "I wanted to take you to Swansea today," he looked at the window, frowning at how ti was still bright outside and that he was so willing to just ignore it for sleep and rest. "I'll take you tomorrow before the rehearsal. Show you my Mum and Dad's 'ouse, where I went to school, the water tower. I think you'd like it, eh? Wales is beautiful, I'd like to share what I can of my 'ome."

Or course, that'd be after a a good rest, something the both desperately need. Mick was already starting to drift off anyway.

Ethan scoots over faintly to give Mick mpre room, but he doesn't pull away. By the time Mick rests against his shoulder, he's still again. This is...he could...definitely get used to this. He listens before giving his agreement before mick passes out.  
"Tomorrow morning is good. I'll get up whenever." He tilts his fave over for one last kiss to Mick's forehead before he settles back and closes his eyes after drawing the sheets up just right. Soon, he's out like a light as well, still and flat on his back.  
He won't stir until Mick does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my ignorance of Wales and Swansea, most of this was done at three am while studying google maps, which we both did to get familiar with the area Mick is describing. I'm american and never been out of the US, so some mistakes might have been made

Mick didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but he needed it. The flight hadn't been enough, and really, just a few hours more seemed to sort of invigorate him. At least, he was in a better mood than he was the night before, which for him was a rarity. Actually, he was in a great mood.

Didn't mean that he wanted to wake up.

Groaning the second he heard his phone go off, Mick peeled himself off Ethan and fumbled around, trying not to just topple over as he nearly fell out of bed. He never bothered to take it out before their little adventure, which of course lead to him tossing and turning his pants around until he pulled it out, frowning when he realized it was just his alarm, the entire time expecting a call from his sister. He was awake now, at least, which was good for something.

Turning off his alarm, torn between just saying "fuck it" and curling back under the covers, he sighed and went to tap the other man's leg. "You awake then?"

It was still early, if Ethan wanted to sleep in for once, Mick didn't have objections. Just meant less time to sightsee before meeting the family. Fun.

Ethan shifts and wakes as Mick falls over him like a bumbling fool. He just smiles softly and huffs in laughter before sitting up. "I am now." He answers and runs a hand through his hair before he huffs under his breath and forces his aching body to stand. The pain is a constant with him, and he's very familiar with it at this point. He can bear it.

"Show me your home. That's what defines us, right?" He gives an excited smile before stealing a quick kiss and moving to get dressed. Today, it's dark jeans, a shirt boldly bearing Frank Castle's Death's Head, his ASICS, and a thin black hoodie. He's together quickly, wearing more clothing than usual, and probably for Mick's sake. Good for him.

It’s a good thing, too. It’s colder here already, and even though he’s not exactly bothered by cold weather, he still manages to layer up a little with changing back into jeans and an old faux lether jacket. A quick phone call is made to a taxi service, he doesn’t want to bother his sister for a ride, what with her wedding in a day. So he settles for paying someone to take them around, which really isn’t too bad, just a few pounds here or there.

Leading Ethan down the stairs and out the front of the hotel, waiting a few moments before the Capital cabs car showed up, Mick sliding in the back and giving Ethan the choice of passenger or sitting with him.

"Swansea, eh? Please," he replied when the driver asked where to go, uncomfortable in the back seat but willing to live it in for the chance to see his childhood home again. The hour long ride wasn’t too long, what with the use of small talk and soon they were in the city, Mick asking to be dropped off near the Castle Center. There was a small shopping district here and it was near all the places he wanted to take Ethan, so overall it worked out. "Jenna will pick us up before the rehearsal, and I can drive you back to the hotel while I’m there. Unless you want to come to it, by all means."

"Beautiful, innit?" He asked, ticking his head towards the worn old castle. It’s only a few blocks off from the city center to where he used to live. But he takes time to let Ethan look around, willing to answer any questions or point out anything else that might be importaint. "The castle used to be more impressive. Now it’s just eroded and patched up in places. Used to be a newspaper office, now it’s just a tourist attraction. The City Center’s stonehenge basically."

Ethan follows in silence, sliding in beside Mick and glancing out windows in curious wonder and eventually asking a few questions. Really, he's just surveying and taking in a new place, and so far? He absolutely loves it. There's a distinctly different feel here, one that thrums and pulses like the city is alive. He can see why Mick has fond memories of it. Once they're on foot in Castle Center, he does a slow spin to take in what's around him and get a lay of the land.

"Sounds like a plan. Unless you want me there." He gives the option either way. It's Mick's call. Ethan just doesn't want to embarrass the man, but he'll be support however is needed.

"It is. Beautiful, that is. Never seen a castle other than the ones in and around Hamburg. It's different. I like it. Imagining what it must have been like, too...cool thought. Why'd the paper move out?" He follows Mick, exploring, although he does get distracted by the promise of laser tag excitement close by.

"I dunno," Oh, well, that shows how much he really cares about it. "I only know what I know about it because Jenna did a report on it when we were kids. But I do remember that once they moved out they replaced what was destroyed."

That's...all he knows. Sad, really. Then again, he was still relatively young when he was still here, before he was shipped off to Cardiff. "My mum used to take us out 'ere on Saturdays, go shopping or just walk 'round for a while while my dad went off and worked to give us somethin' to do besides bein' stuck in the 'ouse. 'E was half Irish and 'ad the accent, so what work he did manage to find that wasn't racist or well, a shithole 'ad 'em workin' a lot. But really it wasn't too bad."

For a guy who didn't get to see his dad too often he seemed pretty alright with it. A walk a few blocks down had them in the residential area, Mick pointing out a few more things before leading Ethan down to a small, lower-grade neighborhood, for once seeming fine with the amount of walking they were doing. He hadn't been here in years, things were changed, buildings destroyed and rebuilt, but a lot of it remained the same. It was a strange sort of feeling to have, feeling those memories crop up like it hadn't been over twenty years.

"The 'ouse is just a little further down. Probably the worst part leaving Swansea, besides losing my parents, was leaving the home, y'know? One of the first things my mum and dad bought together. It's a bit...jarring.  When I was with my fiance at the time, I wanted to buy it back," he sighed. "Should've known it wasn't gonna 'appen. But it was a dream. "

When they arrive to it, it's easy to see how unkempt it'd become, the house is small and whoever owned it now seemed to not care about the mildew growing on the outside. Compared to the homes on either side it looks ridiculously small. But Mick's attachment to it is understandable. But he's silent, staring at it like he expects it to come alive.

Ethan lets Mick take the lead as they walk this time, remaining silent as he listens with rapt attention. Mick's clearly still in love with this place, or at least his memories of it. Ethan wonders what it's like, to have an attachment to somewhere like that. It's...a weird thought. He's never had one, so he wouldn't know.

He understands the thing about discrimination, and he understands it well. The one job he ever had that was honest and paid well, it left him getting called names and pushed around, dealing with customers who did the same. It's no wonder he didn't look for another even after coming to the US, where nobody can really figure out exactly what he is.

As they walk, he scans the neighborhood impassively. No judgment to make. If this is home, this is home. He's lived in public housing and in alleys, under bridges and in fancy hotels. It call comes with the territory, really.

When they arrive and Mick's staring in silence, Ethan does something probably unexpected. He gives Mick's hand a quick squeeze after shooting his own over and then tries to hint at him to follow as he lets go and strides to the door, knocking with a friendly, sharp tone.

The comfort from Ethan is welcome, he's not sure when he'd get to see this place, or even Wales again. People in their line of work tend to die young and leave nothing behind. The thought of never seeing home again was raw, really he never wanted to leave but the job opportunity made him think that maybe someday he'd come back.

...And then Ethan starts walking off. Towards the door. Which has Micki screaming in his head. What was he doing? Was he seriously going to bother whoever lived there now? It took Mick a long moment of standing there wide-eyed before he mustered up the courage to follow, scratching at his neck in that nervous tick he had. “Wot're you doin'?”

Good question, mostly because Mick really had no idea what possessed Ethan to do this.

There was a few seconds before someone opened the door, an older woman, probably in her seventies, and when she spoke she had an accent about as thick as Mick's, defiantly Welsh traveled, ad she eyed the two of them for a moment before speaking. “Can I 'elp you gents?”

Oh wonderful, interrupting some old woman's day. Well, Ethan was the one who knocked on the door, surely he could explain for them, right?

Ethan makes a call then and there that it's best to just be honest and open. He considered speaking with his German accent, but he decides American will work just fine. He flashes a charming little grin and speaks brightly.

"Hi! Yeah, we're in town visiting where he grew up. Wanted to show me around while we're here for a wedding. My point is, this was his house as a kid, and he was staring at it like it was a painting, so I figured I'd knock it back to reality for him." He extends a hand warmly, all smiles and warmth and friendliness. The bastard.

"I'm Ethan."

"Ethan?"

She squinted at him for a few moments like she thinking, before looking around him at Mick. She stared at him for a small while before opening her eyes wide. Or as wide as she could. “Oh. You're Marie's son ain't you? 'Aven't seen you in 'ow long? Still skinny, still with the ah, long 'air? Never looked good on you.”

“Twenty years, give 'er take,”  _who was she again?_

“Right, hmm. Alright,” she said, just grabbing Ethan's hand and almost yanking him in. “Come, come. 'Aven't all day, yeah?”

It took him a few moments to recognize her, it had been twenty years after all. An old friend of his mothers, she used to watch over his sister, which honestly was a good thing when her older brother was an irresponsible fourteen year old. Though he didn't understand why she'd bought the house, maybe some kind of sentiment?

“Mick wasn't it? This boy, luv," she motioned Ethan to lean down, Mick realizing that this was probably the first time in his life he was significantly taller than someone else, and she lowered her voice to whisper. "'E used to steal me 'usband's ciggies, right little shite 'e was.”

She went on, naming almost every petty crime he committed back in his childhood as she lead them inside, mostly ragging to Ethan about some incident with a razor and an old cat. Someone wasn't the most well behaved as a kid, was he? “'Is mum was a busy woman, she was. Bless 'er soul. I'll show you both 'round. Siddown, eh? We'll get some tea.”

The entire walk in Mick feels like he's been blindsided, and tentatively he reached out to touch Ethan's arm to ground himself. The decoration was relatively the same, most of his parents things had either been given away or left in the house. When she instructs them to sit in the living room, he can't help but look all around, noticing small details in how the tiny rooms had been changed by their new...er,  _newer_  owner. The kitchen was relatively the same, the old tiles still there and Mick could almost imagine his mother standing there when they'd be preparing for dinner. It spooked him, but it also calmed him in some sense. The sound of a kettle going off snapped him back, making him jump.

"Tea luv's, 'ere ya go," she smiled. "You 'ere for Jenna, eh? Good girl, she deserves it. I'd go but me 'usband's not doin' too well, ya know," she slowly at in a ratty old chair, taking a sip of tea before going on. "Who'is? Ethan right? You just a friend?" There was a silent  _or what_ after that.

The touch to his arm is met with reassurance. He slows his pace and makes sure to stay close, silent on the matter but as supportive as he can be. Just walking away from this would have been wrong, and they both know it. Mick might not have admitted it, but he wanted this, too. Ethan took the leap for him, and he's glad it's worked out so far. Granted, the information he learns about a young Mick gets a little grin from him here and there. The stories don't surprise him. Mick hardly seems like the type who kept his nose completely clean, ever. A lot has happened, though, to make the sniper who he is today. Ethan understands that, and he respects it.

Once they're both presented with tea and told to sit, he does so beside Mick and across from the woman who has let them inside. Tea isn't really his thing, but he figures that's expected with him seemingly being American. It's a hard charade to get past, and most fall for it. He sips at it respectfully, though, never the less.

The question nearly makes him cough, but he holds it back and swallows. He...doesn't know how to answer that. His lips twitch into a momentary frown of thought before he gives an answer. "Something like that." That...wasn't convincing. It's also clear he doesn't know what to say about the matter.

She narrowed her eyes. “Right. I smell bullshit when I see it, boy," she was amused though, that counted for something. "S'not really important, is it?” she took another drink. “Finish yer tea and look 'round. We kept a lot of the back rooms 'bout the same, so if ya want anythin' ya better take it. Trust ya not to run off with me valuables, eh?”

Straightforward, Mick likes it. And it makes everything quicker. Also, when was the last time he had actual tea anyway? After a while he shifted, he tapped Ethan to see if he was ready and setting the cups aside before standing. There's a moment of stillness before he sucks it up, taking a second to watch the old woman as she leaned back and turned on the television, completely oblivious to the two as he lead the way.

“Don't make a mess though, eh? Just cleaned 'bout 'alf the 'ouse now,” the shout his heard down the hallway and Mick trudges ahead, fingers touching the now tan paint. 

"Used to be white. Mum 'ad us do these professional photographs and 'ad 'em all down the 'allway. At the end, she 'ad one of the big ones with Jenna and I when we were kids."

There's only a few yards to the hall, it was only a matter of time before they reached the end. He skipped passed the master bedroom, there was no sense in expecting it to be the same as how his parents left it. He remembered: to the left at the end was Jenna's nursery, and to the right was his own. Stealing a glance at Ethan, he pushed open the door.

It was a typical teenage boy's room, obviously one obsessed with plaid shown in the comforter and curtains, and there were still stains on the walls and carpet. Shoved in the corner was a desk, cleared off of what would have been the homework due the day his parents had their accident and there was residue from posters torn off the blue walls. Old clothes he couldn't take with him when the chaos of shipping back and forth from Cardiff were stuffed in the dressers and closet and there were still the picture frames his mother forced him to have sitting on the chifferobe. Most of his things had been cleared away as this place was converted into a guest room, but it didn't stop him from staring blankly.

Twenty years and it looked the same. 

Once more, Ethan is a faithful tail through the house. This isn't his life he's revisiting- it's Mick's, and his past at that. This place has a lot of memories, for better or for worse, and he understands that he needs to move carefully to avoid dredging up anything that will cause unnecessary pain. He isn't always the most tactful of men when it comes to having discretion with what to say, but for Mick's sake now he just tries to hold his tongue. When they enter the room and his friend is left staring blankly as if he'd been transported back at time, he remains quiet for a little while longer, just there to remind the other he's not facing his ghosts alone. In truth, that's what this city is for him, isn't it?  
It's a place from the past, full of decay and rot and blackened and tarnished memories, left to fester up from reality and become a shining beacon of what was remembered instead. For many reasons, this is exactly why Ethan has never made an attachment to a location or to memories of his youth. It's never quite as good as the mind recalls it, and no matter what may be wished, it simply can't become reality.  
He glances at the portraits, just about to laugh at one. It's clear he's doing his best to behave.  
"You were an awkward kid. It's ok. Most aren't graced with immediate charm." He takes the jab and lightly punches Mick in the arm when he does so. "Hey...uh...didn't know what to tell her. About...that. Hope that worked. I guess." Not convinced. Then again, is anyone? Ethan wanders to the bed, the desk, the closet. He explores this piece of Mick's past with curiosity and intensity, believing firmly that even running from where a man comes from can't erase the mark it leaves on his heart.  
"Tell me about them. Your parents."

That was fine. We'll need to talk about it. I don't...I need to figure it out first, yeah? But I wanna talk about...what exactly it is.”

The jab receives a smile, Mick wasn't exactly graceful for sure. Not in his youth at least. That's what happens when you hit six feet and remain thin as a pole in your second year of highschool.

When Ethan told him to tell him about his parents, he just shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Not much to tell you. My dad was from Ireland, his mum was Welsh and 'is dad Irish. Mum's entire family was Welsh, so there was that racial thing there. But my mum, she was a good lady. 'Ad a good 'ead on 'er shoulders, y'know? My dad worked 'ard but always managed to spend time with us. When 'e found out I wanted to go to college and do psychology 'e started a fund for both me and Jenna. She was the one who got to use it, I ended up doing school with the military. But he was a good man as well, good father. Didn't deserve what 'appened to 'em.”

He shifted. “The night before their accident I got into a fight with Mum. Dad was at work but I said some terrible things. Things that still fuck me up. I just 'ad a feeling something was gonna 'appen so I made sure I got everything squared away with 'er. Last thing I said when she dropped me off for school was 'I'm sorry. I love you', which I guess was better than lettin' 'er be mad at me or using stupid teen angst to just be pissed for no reason. When I was in fifth period, I started to feel sick and then they came and called me out of class, said somethin' 'appened. That I 'ad to get my sister. That my mum and dad 'ad been in a pileup on the road.”

Mick blinked a few moments, trying to process what all he's just told Ethan. He's never really told anyone, hell, he really only goes into detail about Jenna with people he trusts. Talking about it makes him feel better, but that side of guilt just doesn't leave him. 

"I guess I sometimes think about what 'ad 'appened if they 'adn't died. Probably wouldn't be what I am, probably would have gone into some big school and just figured somethin' out," he scratched at his face, hand dragging down to his mark. "Jenna was so young. She was scared, kept askin' when we'd go home. Never had the heart to tell 'er we wouldn't, and that mum and dad wouldn't be there. I just 'ad to take care of 'er."

"Yeah, whatever you're comfortable with, whenever, Mick. We have to eventually but there's no real rush, because I doubt either of us is going to decide to split tomorrow." That would be virtually inconceivable, one of the two splitting ways after what has happened for the same of comfort or maybe not dealing with the challenge of defining what it is they want. 

As Mick tells the story, he plops down to sit on the edge of the bed and listens. Due to his weight, the springs get a good creak and the whole thing dips. He's unashamed of it, too. His hands fold together before him, legs spread a little bit and hands between. His fingers tap against the opposite hand until he shifts positions again. He's an active listener, but he does like to have something to do during the process.

The story is a hard one to tell, and he can understand that. For that exact reason, he doesn't interrupt once. It's a surprising shift in demeanor, the side of Ethan Mick is getting to see today. It's more mature, more grounded, rational and free of his usual humor and lazy, proud arrogance. He, in short, cares enough to drop the act and paint himself bare so Mick knows he's not alone through this. At least, not anymore.

"I think you did the right thing, not trying to explain to her right away. And I know you did take care of her. Look at her now- she's happy, whether you like the situation or not. And sometimes individual happiness is what's most important for other people, right? The ones who aren't so deep in shit they can't ever see the light again, like us."

He snorted. “I guess I did one thing right, eh? I mean she's...She's got 'erself money, a home, someone she loves, probably gonna 'ave some kids, right? So I guess it's s'not as bad as I make it out to be. Maybe I'm just jealous. But no, she really deserves to be 'appy, and I'm glad she is.”

He's truly proud of her. Someone has to be, he guessed.

"Right," he cleared his throat, looking around for a little bit as if committing the place to memory, and then he looked down at Ethan. "You ready? I'm...I can't do here anymore. Ridiculous as it sounds. I'll 'ave Jenna come 'round and pick up what things she wants before she moves. No sense in letting the old woman deal with it much longer. And I don't see any sense in keepin' anything m'self. What's past is past and really I don't need to let it weigh me down."

They still had a few hours, but Mick just had enough of it. But he needed this. It brought a lot of unsavory things back up, but it also calmed him, made him look at things differently. He let himself dwell on it too long, at least he's willing to let go. Strange, before he would have let it tear at him. Now? He just wanted to move on. Which was probably a good thing, for many reasons.

"Thank you, E, really. I wouldn't 'ave been able to do it m'self, come back 'ere, y'know? Would've been too much."

"I'm ready." Ethan replies to reassure him before finishing up what he's got to say. "You're welcome. Any time. But I want you to know you're not alone. You think you are sometimes, and maybe you have been in the past. But now? You're not. Alright?" His tone makes it clear he's stressing the issue. "You're not alone and you don't ever have to be again." What kind of offer is that, even? It seems that even he's not sure. He may not have the answer, but he means what he's said.

Without asking if it's ok and assuming Mick will just pull away if it isn't, he lightly steps forward and takes the sniper's hand, leading him towards the door.

Ethan's reassurance gets a thin smile, though he's a bit muddled at the last part. They'd talk about it later, he's sure. But still, it seemed to give Mick that boost he needs. "That means a lot. Really."

Letting Ethan lead him out, not tearing away from the other man's grip, he followed down the long hallway and looks around one last time, noticing the old woman asleep on her couch. "I'll have Jenna thank 'er for me. I'm sure she'll understand, I don't wanna wake 'er. She's done enough. I'll find some way to thank 'er m'self, I'm sure."

Hell, he didn't even remember her name. Stack...something. Stackpoole? Probably Stackpoole. That sounded right. Looking around one last time, he sighed, and headed for the door,

Waiting until they were outside, Mick yanked out his phone, searching for his contacts for a while before finally calling his sister. "Jenna, love? Yeah we're ready. I'm excited to meet 'em. Mm, right. See you then," he hung up and turned to Ethan. "She'll pick us up in the Centre in about an hour. We'll meet Reg and the folks and then I'll 'ave to borrow my Nan's car to bring you back. I'll do the rehearsal myself. I think I'll be able to 'andle it, and it'll just be the wedding party anyway."

It's a good thing, too. He doesn't want to force Ethan to updo himself more than once. Felt like he was torturing the poor man. And well, he wanted the pleasantries out of the way. At least this time, he would be civil, he was sure of it. At least Jenna deserved it. 

"An hour? Great. Time for food." He's got one grand thing on his mind at all times, docent he? One problem, though. He's got no cash on him, at all. At least, not the right currency. It's not like a guy like him has a card, either. This realization strikes him and he groans in frustration at his own oversight. "Never mind. Fuck. Uh..." Oh. Oh dear. He's got an hour to kill in a new city, and a new city means new places to explore and new jumps to make...new...new jumps...

Someone stop this man.


	3. Chapter 3

What's with him? Is he freaking out? Oh no, Mick knows that look. That's the "feed me or I'll jump on things and embarrass you" look. Christ. 

Mick sighed, putting a hand on Ethan's shoulder to calm him down. "There's a great place my mum used to take us to. Chinese, right in the Centre. And don't worry about paying, I figured you didn't bring anything and I managed to get some pounds at the airport," he turned to lead, stopping abruptly to narrow his eyes at the shorter man. "Y'know, you're worse than the fucking Brit sometimes. One of these days I wont be able to buy you dinner."

He's joking. Mostly. Ethan wasn't as bad as John, Mick was sure. Then again, he did pay for a majority of this trip. Huh.

The walk back takes some time but it's not long until they're back by the castle, but really, he's hungry too. They had skipped breakfast (what was with him and ignoring breakfast lately?) and. well, he really only had enough for a meal after the taxi ride. Either way, he's looking forward to relaxing in a place that doesn't have so many bad memories on top of the good ones.

The Green Dragon was attached to a hotel and on the titular street, it had changed little over the years and Mick appreciated that. Leading Ethan to the doors and finally being able to sit down for a while, he relaxed completely. He had to rely on good surroundings and calming himself nowadays, since he's tried to quit smoking his stress started getting slightly worse than it already was. And even if he wanted to smoke, Wales was so strict on anti-smoking he probably wouldn't be able to find himself a space anyway. He's sure Ethan appreciates it, what with his clean habits, 

"Figured you'd be into somethin' simple like Chinese, eh?"

Ethan is pleased. That much is obvious as he sits down and gets comfortable across from Mick, he's already getting a whiff of the place to decide what sounds good with his standard glass of water and borderline obnoxious obsession with noodles. It's a far bigger thing than rice for him, for some reason. He's happy to settle in before he quips right back. 

"I could eat this virtually every other meal and I'd be happy. I'm a simple man." Lies, and he doesn't even try to make it sound like he's serious. When the time comes to order, he's got some kind of honey-glazed chicken with steamed broccoli, cabbage, and carrots added, all bathed in the same sauce, on top of noodles. He is so ready for this. His stomach growls at the thought alone.

"So." Not sure how to start this conversation, he doesn't even try. Mick's bought him food. He's officially happy now, and calming down too. What a child.

Ordering the same thing, mostly because he's too hungry to care and it just makes things easier, Mick leaned back and sighed. The smells were great, the atmosphere was great, it was like being back and having dinner with his mother again. Except his mother was replaced with a 250 pound cyborg. Still, there were worse people he could be dining with. 

"I guess this is as good as time as any," he started, catching on to what Ethan was trying to say. Or what he assumed he was trying to say. "S'funny, innit? What we do when we're stressed. I...I don't even know what we've got anymore, y'know?" Since when was he good at these kinds of conversations? "I said I wanted to talk but there isn't much to talk about. If you wanna call this," -he motioned his hand around in a circle- "Whatever we 'ave, y'know, the whole 'friends with benifits' thing a relationship er something, I guess...I wouldn't be against it."

That's big, coming from him. "Only if you don't tell Shamus of course. I've kinda made it clear to 'em that I ah, I 'ad no interest," he snorted, trying to keep this light. This was something Mick thought he'd never have to bring up, it was kind of a big deal to him. "But we've got somethin' and I rather call it somethin' or just ignore it and pretend it never 'appened. I mean it's your call. Just saying that... that now I'm open to it. Whatever the choice is though, it's not gonna affect our friendship, at least on my end. I don't...whatever we figure out, I don't want to lose you."

Stress. Mick's still saying it was all about his stress relief. Ethan finds this hilarious, and he doesn't even bother trying to show that. His lips twitch into a thin little grin and he takes a long drink of water, holding it in his mouth for a moment before he swallows as he listens to Mick flounder around and flail as he tries to find his words. They're tough to pinpoint in this situation, and he won't even try to deny that. Finally, he sees his moment to break in. The statement about Shamus gets a quiet little laugh.

"You know, the whole "poly" thing generally is only healthy if I'm open about what I'm doing with all parties. But in his case, I think he knows enough already. That isn't a problem." He downplays that issue quickly, and it's obvious that  he means that he's positive it can be controlled.

"Ignoring this isn't smart. That would destroy this friendship. I say we give it a shot, if you're really looking for a relationship. And if it doesn't work? We end it and we move on, but we stay together and we don't let it be the reason we ruin this friendship." He means his words, and that much is clear. "So...I'm definitely up to calling this a relationship. If you actually want a thug as a boyfriend, that is."

Mick blinked, somewhat just confused before making a small sound instead of forming words.

 _Oh God_.

Covering his face in his hands and nearly clawing back down his scalp. "I'm... yeah I mean if... You're right. I'm just not....y'know?" Dies he know? What the fuck is he saying? He sounds like a teenage girl being asked to her first dance.  _Christ man pull yourself together_. "I guess I don't understand the whole poly thing completely. It makes sense though, I understand that. More of a joke, really. But um, I mean... fuck."

He coughed, trying to hide his flush of embarrassment when their food was brought over.  At least the brief interruption gave him time to think. "If you're ah, if you're alright with a PTSD suffering Welshman, then ah, then we could work it out. I mean, s'not like it's marriage, right?" God, he didn;'t know Ethan's stance on that. He prayed he wasn't exactly gung-ho about it. "No but this is...this is good. We can do somethin' with this."

"I'm not the marriage type." Oh, God. Good. That's definitely what Mick was wanting to hear, anyway. "Yeah. I think we can. I want to try." He makes it clear, lips twitching into a small little grin at the idea. It's elating, and he's not quite sure why. "It isn't like we haven't already basically hit that point on our own or anything." Teasing, he chuckles and takes his first bite, watching Mick as he does so. Mm. Noodles.

He chews and swallows before speaking up. "A lot of people have trouble with the poly thing. So I'll offer you what I have to everyone who's ever asked. I'll explain how it works if you want to know. If not, then I won't worry about it. I'll tell you anything and everything about my life if you ask, or nothing if you want that instead. But what you need to get..." A pause for another bite. The broccoli is out of this world with that sauce. Mm.

"...Anyway. What it means is that my love is spread evenly. It's not unequal or impure towards anybody. What I give you doesn't go to anyone else, period. Are you sure you're...you know, you're...ok with that?" He's used to getting a no as his answer.

The jab makes Mick cough and nearly snort out his water. Charming. 

But he listens, clearly interested in what Ethan was explaining. He had a gist of it, but Ethan's explanations make it a lot clearer. He doesn't speak while he talks, just eats silently and smirks at how he pauses for food. Yeah, wow. It was kind of adorable. _  
_

When Ethan asks if he's fine with everything he leaned back, brown eyes narrowed as he actually considered it. Was he actually alright with it? He's never been in a relationship like this, there's a lot to consider. And did he ever really care?

And then he decides.

"I'm alright with it. Like I said a month ago, I don't care who you're with so long as you don't break my trust. And you 'aven't so far, so I probably 'ave nothin' to worry about, eh? I mean, like, I don't care about your other partners like that, not in the sense that I don't think they deserve what parts of you they get, y'know? I understand there's some sharing involved 'ere and I'm fine with it. So you don't 'ave to worry about jealousy or anythin' like that. I mean, unless they come after me. Then it might get a bit personal," he joked. "It'll work out."

"If anybody doesn't respect my choices and one of my partners, I cut them out. Period. That even goes for Shamus. I don't put up with something like that- it isn't fair to anybody and it's just...fuck, who has time for that?" Ethan takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. The vegetables are hitting the spot, and it's obvious how much he appreciates it. His stance on Shamus has been made clear- if anything unwanted comes from the vampire, he won't be afraid to leave. Hey, they both wound up tangled with him in some way. Ethan's situation is just a bit different, due to a combination of somewhat poisonous affection and consensual trysts. Talk about a turnaround. Mick would probably be flabbergasted to see how different the hitman becomes when moving to Shamus' administrations and touch.

"So that's that, then. We're going to give this a shot. Wow." Ethan gives a small little nod of acceptance and clear excitement. "I...like this idea. I like this a lot." His eyes are bright and his grin isn't one of mockery or sarcasm, for once. "Gotta say, though, I didn't think we'd ever end up at this point. Besides, what's your sister gonna think? One minute it's denial and the next day she comes back..."  
He almost chokes in laughter at the thought.

“I'm sure she'll accept it, she's like I am in that regard,” he snorted. “I didn't expect it either but it makes sense I guess. We got close in that past month, somethin' was bound to 'appen eh?"

He says it like it's no big deal, but really he's panicking inside. He picked at his food, barely even finishing half of it from just talking. "You want the rest o' this?" Better to ask instead of wasting it. Knowing Ethan though, he'd probably want it. They still had a little while before Jenna would show up anyway.

"No but ah, 'm glad we've got this all situated. Makes things easier, yeah? But I guess I'm still not exactly used to it. Really outside of Jon and my ex, you're probably the third person who 'asn't just been a hook up or mindless screw, so, y'know, it's a lot to take in right now."

His happy about it though, which says something at least. Hopefully it would work out.

Ethan eventually reaches over when he's asked about wanting the food, going for the vegetables and ignoring the meat now. He's had his fill of that. He munches happily on the broccoli like he's been given candy, the weirdo. He lets Mick do his nervous talking, a thin little grin stretched across his lips as it occurs. Finally, he finds it in himself to huff and speak up again when he seems about done.

"Nobody's ever used to it or ready for it. That includes me. Hell, I'll be honest with you, I'm kind of in shock you feel the same way. That whatever this thing is we've got, it's worth calling a relationship to see what happens." He goes for the carrots next, always seeming to eat in order and finish one thing before moving onto the next.

“Yeah, it's a bit weird, eh? But I mean, there was probably going to be this conversation at some point. You don't just 'ave sex and call it nothin', right? Usually, anyway.”

He looked outside the windows, looking to see if his sister's car had pulled up yet. Seeing nothing, he turned back to Ethan. “I don't let people get close to me. Whenever they do it's like somethin' 'appens and I lose 'em. But I've been more comfortable and 'appy with you than I've been in a very long time, and in such a short time. So it's like, yeah, I want to see this 'opefully work, y'know? Thank you for the opportunity.”

He's been thanking Ethan a lot lately. At least he's an appreciative boyfriend. 

"If you keep thanking me you might start to think there's something about me actually worth being grateful for." He cautions with a clear spot of humor and then sets down his chopsticks. "But, yeah, you don't call it nothing unless you split and run permanently afterwards. So...I'm glad we talked about this." He doesn't know what else to say on the subject right now, and that's clear. They've got it wrapped up, and what is...is. Both men accepted it, so both men seem to be set to go.

"You sure you don't want me to go with you to the rehearsal?"

“Nah, I mean, s'just the wedding party. Wont be too long, a taxi can bring you to the 'otel and then the second we're done Jenna'll bring me back. Plus I'll only have five seconds of interaction with anyone. Reg, from what I've 'eard is a stickler for getting' things over with and on time so it's only going to be a little while. Don't worry about it. You'll still get to meet everyone tonight. Thankfully we're staying in Cardiff once we get back, so it's only about fifteen mintues. I'm going to miss Swansea, though. I don't know when I'll get to be back.”

Shoving that thought aside, he dug through his wallet and fished out a few notes to pay with. At least the hotel was already paid for and neither of them probably would want anything else until they arrived back in Detroit. That made monetary pressures a bit less. “Either way, I mean, I don't want you to be exposed to them longer than you need to. Reg is a bet of a xenophobe and so is my nan, s'why they 'ad to 'ave the wedding 'ere or she'd refuse to come. Plus I don't want the eventual racial slur to come out. You don't deserve it from these assholes.”

Aww, Mick's looking out for him. How adorable. “Still, I 'ave to be nice. For my sister. It's gonna be a long night,” he sighed. “You ready? She'll probably be 'ere soon.”

The statement about racial slurs gets a brief little grin, although he isn't really making fun of Mick when he speaks next. His gaze makes it clear, too, he finds it somewhat cute.

"I get those a lot, Spätzchen. I'm used to it, but I appreciate the sentiment. They never don't hurt, even if it's just a little bit." He drops the unfamiliar word and does it with a grin before he makes moves to stand to queue Mick that he's ready, doing so when the other is in motion too and following to the door.

He narrowed his eyes, regretting never bothering to learn German but figuring it wasn't bad, whatever he said. He'd have to bring up some of the offensive slang at some point, like Taff or Welcher just to be safe. He could only guess he's going to get one of the two tonight.

“Right then, if you want to stay you can. Probably will make things easier, give me someone to chat to while Jenna runs around getting everything straight. At least she just wants me to walk 'er. Nothin' too strenuous or exciting.”

He says it like it isn't a big deal. Really, he'd nervous as fuck. Leading Ethan out the door, it was only a few more moments before Jenna pulled up, Mick sliding into the front seat (And he would sit in the back with Ethan if he could, problem was her car was so small he still had to roll he seat all the way back), and greeted his sister before turning to be sure Ethan was settled.

"You boys 'ave fun eh? Mick show you the old place?" she asked, trying not to be too distracted at the way Mick fiddled with his seat as she pulled out. 

Ethan follows and squeezes in the car a bit easier than Mick, since his height isn't an issue. He buckles in and rests back in silence until addressed, although he's watching Mick fidget with clear amusement on his face. Jenna can take it however she wants, but there's no denying the little shine in his eyes at it.

"Yeah, we actually went in. The lady there was nice, let us look around. Mick took me around town, too." He's realizing now that he's American, at least to Jenna and everyone else, and it needs to stay that way, not only for the sake of his cover but simply because it might be deemed even worse if he's a half-blooded German pretending to be American. Seriously, how much more mixed can you get and still be legitimate about saying so?

“Well good, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Surprised actually, Mick 'as a 'abit of skipping the painful stuff,” she smirked before looking over at her brother. “You talk to Ms. Sackpoole then?”

Close enough on the name. Still, he nodded. “Yeah, she 'as some stuff set aside I wouldn't mind 'aving. Thinkin' you could maybe ship it, yeah? Like my yearbooks and photos.”

“Of course,” a bit of a silence hung, Though it was understandable. Jenna had a lot on her mind, and Mick's own head was still processing when he and Ethan agreed on. Until Mick seemed like he couldn't take it anymore and leaned over to whisper.

" _< Sister, there's something I need to tell you...about me and> _Ethan."

”What?  _< You two are dating>,_ eh?"

"No! Well yes. How did you know?"

"Please, I could smell it on you two. Plus you 'ere grinnin' like an idiot. Like know you. Ethan must be excited, eh? Kind of adorable." If he hadn't caught on, well, she'd be happy to translate.

"Uh." Ethan picks up on the meaning of it, although he's not quite sure what to say. It's not like he needs Jenna's approval, anyway. "Yeah. We are. Kind of worked that out today. Finally." Well, it definitely has taken them both forever. That's no exaggeration. He's concerned, though, about these other people at the wedding. Will they assume that? And if so, will that be a problem? If they're xenophobic, could they possibly take issue with it as well? Even if they played it off and didn't make it obvious, they'd probably assume since Mick brought Ethan along instead of some girl that something was up.

"Although I think we're both aware that took us way too long." He relaxes and settles back, glad there's no elephant hiding in the room. 

"Well I think it's great. Mick needs someone and judging by 'ow embarrassed he is it seems like that someone should be you."

At least Jenna likes him. In Mick's book that's about all he really cares about. He could care less what her fiance and his crowd thinks, what they would say. Though he'd get defensive and angry, if someone pulled something tonight it's just be a good excuse to leave early. And honestly, his personal thoughts of Ethan outweighed what anyone else thought about him.

The rest of the car ride was spent in small talk, Jenna elaborating on plans after the wedding and casually wondering what the two of them would be doing when they went back to Detroit. Thankfully, her ignorance on Mick's changed profession made it easy to dance around, he didn't like lying to his sister but revealing what he did might make him lose her. That was his constant fear; afraid of losing everyone he got close to. It was probably why he took so long to let himself start with Ethan. 

Forty five minutes into the drive they were there, Mick deciding on bringing Ethan anyway, more to keep himself from attempting to fight everyone there. The hardest part would be just the interaction aspect, once that was squared away and everyone was rushed around to their places he'd be able to keep his mouth shut and ignore everyone else. 

Their grandmother's home was modest, larger than Mick's parent's place but not too big, just a perfect space to practice before the wedding. Leading them inside, Jenna moved around a bit, the place crowded but only with the wedding party. Mick just stood there, frozen and awkward and not sure what to do until he brought over a man in his late twenties with light hair and striking green eyes.

"Mick, Ethan, this is my man, Reg," she smiled, her voice almost reverting back to that sort of different accent again. "This is my brother an' his ah, his friend." Better be safe than sorry. No telling what hi reaction would be anyway.

Ethan senses Mick's discomfort easily, and his reaction is instantly to act as a crutch. Upon arrival and Mick seeming to be frozen, Ethan is quick to brush against him to get him to remember to breathe and to act like a human being. He does so in a rather nonchalant way as he extends his hand towards Reginald with a bright and warm smile, eyes crinkling as they always do in a way that's all at once endearing and utterly mischievous. Hopefully the man isn't going to be so rude as to refuse that. It would be awkward beyond compare if that were the case.

"Hello, Reginald. Jenna's been telling me all about you for the last day. I don't think there's a moment of conversation about anything else!" His accent is firm and squared away, and there will be no guessing he isn't American. That is, unless someone gets him angry.

Oh God. Mick could see the tattoo. That was going to get questions at some point. But the other man held his tongue, obviously because Jenna must have threatened him and he forced a smile. There was a world of things he was probably going to say, shitty things, and that made Mick's blood start to boil.

“Strange, hasn't said a word about you,” oh God, that was the most British cockney if there ever was one. There's a total contrast between his accent and Mick's, made sense as to why Mick was adamant of people being correct about where he's from. And not calling him British. “And it's Reg,  _thank you,"_ he glared straight at Ethan, obviously not impressed, most evident in the way he didn't return the gesture. "You must be the hel-”

“The boyfriend, actually,” Mick said quickly, nearly stepping between the two. He was taller than Reg as well, made his try at intimidation a bit easier despite his lack of muscle. Still, he had a gun to back that up. And Ethan, really. So protective already.

“Oh,” the Brit leaned down to not so quietly whisper in Jenna's ear. “You never said he was gay.”

“Bisexual, actually. But we could argue about that all day couldn't we?”

“Alright boys put away your cocks, eh?” Jenna interrupted, putting a hand between her fiance and brother. “Ethan be a love and get Micky a drink, yeah? Let's let these two simmer down then we'll get back to business. Leave it me to expect them to behave, right?” she's laughing, though it's obvious she's not happy with the interaction. 

Dirty looks were exchanged when Reg is nearly shoved away, but that was about it. Mick did promise his sister to be civil, maybe it was a good thing he brought Ethan along. Snorting, the Welshman bit back his tongue and instead moved towards an alcohol cabinet in the living area. knowing about Ethan's sobriety he just pulled out one glass and helped himself to the Penderyn whiskey. "What a fucking wanker. You think she'll be pissed if I get shitfaced tonight?" 

A really stupid question. Mick's just hoping Ethan will humor and talk with him so that anyone else there would leave them alone.

_The help. The fucking help. He just called me the motherfucking HELP._

The rage that burns in Ethan's eyes is only cut back when he realizes what Mick said upon his interruption, and even then there's a look of fury buried under the thin line his lips have made and the wistful expression he's got on his face right now. His hand lowers, both balling into fists. He could take this guy on and beat his brains out in a minute flat. He knows it. He could leave him paralyzed and unable to move for the rest of his miserable life. He could rip him limb from limb, pop out his eyes, tear out his teeth...

But he won't. For Mick, for Jenna, for the sake of not going to prison. And by prison, he means some solitary cell far away from society where he will well and truly never get to go out without a leash. Ironic he was just in that situation with Shamus.

Ethan responds to Jenna's request with a tired and bitter little smile before he moves away to do exactly that.  _The fucking help. Damn him to hell._

When joined by Mick, Ethan listens in wry silence before speaking. "Go for it. I mean, why the fuck not, right? I'm sober so one of us can keep their eyes open for more trouble."

“Good. I should've told 'er work would keep me from comin'. But how could I do that to my sister, right?” he downed a glass, coughing at the burn before making himself another. “Nan's not gonna miss this, right? So what the fuck.”

He's serious about getting drunk. He doesn't do it often, more or less because his tolerance has amounted to shit, but it's going to numb him. He just hopes Ethan can keep his anger underneath for the time being. “Seriously I don't get what she sees in 'em. Fucking asshole, like what, 'e thinks 'e's better than you? Heh. If our dad was around 'e'd clock 'em and set 'em straight. Fucking ridiculous."

“Ethan!” Jenna's sudden voice distracted Mick for a second before he focused back on the whiskey. “I am so, so sorry love. He's not really...you know what, I'm not gonna defend 'em. He 'ad no right to say that to you,” hoping the rest of the night would go well seemed almost null at this point. And then she saw her brother pouring himself another glass. “Are you getting drunk?”

“I've only had like two glasses, love. But yeah getting drunk was about five minutes ago.”

“Christ, and Reg hit the bourbon in the other room! Can you not behave for five minutes?” obviously flustered she spun away, getting looks from the other people crowded in the space, which usually would have embarrassed Mick but he lost all interest the third glass in.

"Wish I 'ad shots. You alright?" Oh good, he's still concerned about something. "M sorry about that, really. You don't deserve that shit."

Ethan lounges back against the table as Jenna approaches, accepting her apology as a needless thing and focusing his rage still on the man who caused him the verbal wound. He doesn't really acknowledge the statement with more than a little smile and the faintest of narrowing of his eyes. She's too busy to worry about him right now, anyway. He doesn't say a word until she's gone, and it's at that point when Mick decides to pipe up and be protective again that he offers a few muted words, spoken so that only the Welshman can hear.

"It's ok, Mick. I get that all the time. I get a lot worse, too. It's just...I wasn't prepared for that one. It wasn't a slur or anything, and those I can respond to and move on with. That was a step beyond it, and it's...well, you know." He absently traces the tattoo on his hand with the thumb of his other one. It isn't like he randomly chose to get it where it would be seen. It covers a scar, and a large one at that. It does so beautifully, too, and it's really a nice piece. "You'll get used to hearing it. People are going to make comments about the two of us because of that, too. Like the whole "same sex is immoral" thing isn't a big enough problem already." He huffs bitterly under his breath and glances longingly at the drink in Mick's hand. He won't ask for it, though, and he doesn't really WANT any. He just longs for the sensation he knows comes with it. He hasn't had a drop since his surgeries.

An impaired cyborg not in control of his own body and not in control of the implants would be a mess, to say the least.

“I know. But just 'cause you're used to to doesn't mean you deserve it, E. Just 'cause I went years of seein' my dad get it and 'ad a bit of it myself doesn't make it any less wrong. You can get used to it all you want, doesn't make it 'urt less or make it any less stupid.”

Mick frowned, tapping his fingers along the side of his glass before speaking. “I'll get you a water and see if she needs any help getting this thing over with. You alright by yourself for a few moments? You ah, you stand out enough that people might leave you alone, which trust me, a majority of these people are with Reg, so it's probably for the best. Wont be long.”

"Yeah. I'm fine. Anybody talks to me I'll just act like they seem me as. That should shove the conversation away and make them leave." He gives the faintest of little smiles, although the anger in his tone is causing something dangerous- his accent is slipping, and the German undertones are rising. It must be something that happens when he's not in control of his emotions or able to focus his energies on something else to tone it down. Mick might not notice, though, and even if he does, what is he to do?

"Granted, I'm not a great person. Nobody should like me. But people hating me for how I fucking look, it's...damn. I'm so tired of it." He shakes his head and absently traces the tattoo on his hand again.

“I know love. M'still sorry. I'll be right back,” at least his grandmother was asleep now. That woman would have chased Ethan out of her home. Kissing the side of Ethan's head, Mick turned and nearly threw his glass down his own throat before heading to where he knew Jenna would be, not caring about what anyone there would think of the sudden affection.

And he was half right on time; he was gone only about ten, negotiating to let himself leave before more trouble was stirred between him and Reg. Jenna seemed open to it only to keep the two from fighting, making in practice with her in the kitchen a few times, biting his tongue when she scolded him for being tipsy and warned him about drinking the rest of the night. Not like she'd notice him stealing the bottle anyway; Penderyn whiskey was hard to come by anywhere else and he was going to bring it home one way or another.

Eventually pained and gritty apologies were passed, Mick accenting his with a threat both centered around Ethan and Jenna, which the Brit seemed to agree to out of fear instead of respect for the Welshman. Mick neither feared nor respected him, so it was at least something. The threat probably had something to do with shooting each of his testicles off individually for target practice if he hurt one or the other. He was somewhat well known in military circles, if one of his relatives were military then were was probably a chance they'd heard of their cousin's little Welsh fiance's brother.

But at least that was taken care of. Water bottle in hand, Mick ignored the looks of the Brits in the living area when he returned to Ethan, handing it to him and sighing. "I told 'er I'd call a taxi. no sense in stressing her out more. The faster we leave the better. I'm about done playing nice. Need to save it for tomorrow anyway."

Mick just called him love. And kissed him. In a display of affection, of his own free will. In public. He instigated it. In public. In front of rich Brits who are nothing like him. It's a pleasant surprise, but its buzz only makes the stares and the little glares of disapproval seem more pointed and real. When left alone, his mind wanders as he feels a flush his face doesn't show rise within him. It's embarrassment and shame, somewhat. He knows what some might be whispering about, or at least thinking. He's a stray Mick took in. At least Mick isn't as mixed up as he is. He's shorter and he's darker and he's covered in ink. He looks like the boyfriend a girl would take to piss off their parents and little more, and he knows it.

His gaze wanders absently, and he attempts to avoid eye contact with anybody else. His hands end up gripping the table as he leans back softly, just eyeing the crowd and wondering which conversations are even briefly about the two of them.

When Mick returns, he unwinds somewhat and forces a hand to relax and move from the table. He accepts the water with a smile and a thank you, then cracks the cap and takes a long swig. This is awkward. He figures Mick would have caught less shit without him here, now, but he could be wrong. At least Reg won't be shocked on the day of the wedding.

"Cab sounds good to me. She's got enough on her mind. I'm pretty sure that guy over there thinks I'm rabid." he points subtly with one finger crooking off the water bottle, a wry little grin on his face.

Mick looked over smirking and actually amused for once. “Wanna make out and see if he cries?”

It's a joke. Mostly.

“Right then. At least we can 'ead back. Watch the telly, get some rest and get away from these wankers. At least we won't 'ave to do much tomorrow before we fly back,” shit. They were leaving right after the wedding. Still, it was more Mick's fault he couldn't afford more than a few days. He just hoped that despite the rudeness he encountered, that Ethan at least enjoyed seeing his home.

It would be a long time before he'd be able to come back.

Grabbing Ethan's hand once he saw the taxi through the window, he ignored the mutterings of people nearby as he brushed past, nearly yanking open the door and only stumbling back when he realized he forgot the whiskey. Important things, the boyfriend and the whiskey. "Sod the fucking lot of 'em anyway. Least my nan didn't fucking show. Would hate to see what shite she pulls."

Mick's still angry about it, which is probably a good thing. At least now he's have a drink and time to cool off. 

"The Iblis mate, please," at least he's still straight enough in the head to be polite. He slid in the back, clearly uncomfortable but gives Ethan the choice of being upfront or with him. Really, he's at the point where he's stop caring.

The (partial) joke makes Ethan smile, at the very least. "Let's not give him an aneurysm, for Jenna's sake. Although I should call him bro at some point and see how he responds. Save the making out for later." He takes another drink as he listens, but he doesn't get the chance to say anything else on the matter before his hand is grabbed and he's yanked off towards the door. He lets it happen, although he is acutely aware of the scorn and the conversation he hears. When Mick stops on his forceful path, he holds still and waits for the man to return. With Whiskey in one hand and Ethan in the other it's into the cab they go.

He gets in the back with Mick, hardly going to separate himself from the only reason he probably wasn't kicked out the door the instant Reg met him. He settles back and glances out the window in silence before he finally turns away and looks back to Mick, giving a small smile and reaching over to squeeze the Welshman's nearest hand, should it be free of alcohol.

"Hey. Assholes are everywhere. Not just here. It's ok."

“Still bollocks if ask me. Whatever. Once we're back in Detroit we can finally stop with the social interaction. Was thinking about going though the stuff we've got there anyway. I'm about tired of dealing with this, wanna get back to work. Shoot somethin', I don't care. Specially since we're gonna be a bit low on funds after this. Christ.”

Someone was stressing again. Oh well, they were almost to the hotel anyway, he stress wouldn't last long. "So what you wanna do eh? Let me get a little drunk and fool around? Or just pass out? Could go for either."

"Oi, careful not ta spill s'at eh?" the driver called out once he noticed Mick sampling from the bottle. Not like he's gonna share anyway. Or risk spilling most of it. Really he just wanted to be numb.

Once they pulled up and Mick fumbled around a bit in his pockets for his wallet and handed over almost all that was left of his pounds and frowned, sure he'd have more money left over and more than a bit disappointed in that. Oh well, at least the flight was taken care of. 

"Thank you, E. For coming, for going through all that and still stickin' with me. Couldn't have done it with anyone else, y'know."

"I'm here 'cause I care, Mick. You know that."  _And I think I'm in love with you. But it's kind of early to say that, isn't it? I mean, aren't you supposed to use a relationship as a trial run before you get to that point? God. I don't even know. The things that are left unsaid in my head sometimes. Fucking hell, Ethan._

Krieg follows Mick inside and gingerly takes the bottle from him before setting it on the nightstand on the other man's side of the bed. Both are obviously made up and clean now, but he knows they'll be sharing again, and hopefully every other night for a long time to come, so long as they're not separated for work or something else. Ethan has a life of his own, and so does the sniper. They can't cling together 24/7, of course.

Ethan slips off his shoes and socks, his shirt following. "I'm not really in the mood for anything tonight, Spätzchen. Maybe we just...get in bed, curl up, watch some TV? Little kissing, if you want." He's honest about it, a bit worn thin by all that's happened today.

The nickname just passes by Mick's fog and he shrugs, really he wouldn't have cared about it but honestly, he wasn't up for anything much either. The night before had drained him; he'd probably have to admit to Ethan that he's not exactly the most sexual creature anyway, age and just learning to cope without sexual touch seemed to sully his taste for it. Didn't mean he didn't appreciate what they did the night before.

“Have to warn you, Welsh TV isn't exactly the best,” he jokes, stumbling a bit as he changed into his usual sleeping attire, wiping at his face and trying to keep himself from passing out on his feet. “S'like if 'ad eighty channels and all of 'em were about Doctor Who. So like, back ground noise it'll work. And probably two of 'em all in Welsh? But ah, set it to whatever you want. I'm probably gonna try an' aleep. They might 'ave BBC though. We never 'ad television growing up so I don't remember what's all there.”

At least he had a cuddle buddy. He'd probably never admit how much he hated sleeping alone when Ethan's injuries were healing. That was a long two weeks.

"Just noise is fine. You're my real entertainment." The statement is surprisingly sweet, actually. Given that he showered before heading out this morning, he doesn't worry about it again and just crawls into bed once he's down to his boxers, figuring Mick will follow suit shortly. He reaches for the remote and flips it on curiously, a little smirk crossing his lips as he flips through the channels. Finally, there's BBC. He can work with that. He settles down against Mick comfortably and rests partially on his side to do so, his head currently on the Welshman' shoulder. He's happy to snuggle in for the moment. This whole "being in a foreign country and being insulted by every other person he meets" business is draining. He would never say it to Mick, but he's glad they'll be going home soon.

Home. Is Detroit really home? It makes him pause to think, without a doubt. Such a dirty, messy city, snagging his affections just like that? Well, it wouldn't be the first time something that unexpected had happened. He'll drift off quickly enough unless bothered, and with the TV on a sleep timer it, too, will fade to black.

He does follow suit, letting Ethan cuddle against him and adjusting so that the pressure wouldn't be too much. But he doesn't sleep yet, strangely enough, even with the alcohol in him he just stares at the ceiling until the TV shuts itself off. He's nervous about tomorrow.

There's no reason to be. It's not his wedding, not his venue. But he's still frightened about it for some reason. Maybe it was because he's realized he'd never get to have the sort of things Jenna does, he came close once, and realized it was a mistake. As much as he hated Reg, he didn't want it to be a mistake for her as well.

He sighed and gently nudging Ethan closer as he tried to sleep, knowing full well that alarm would go off early tomorrow and he's have to panic about getting ready. At least he had Ethan for help.   
It felt like the second he shut his eyes the alarm went off.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The alarm isn't unwelcome. Ethan shifts against Mick pleasantly and exhales before stifling a yawn with one hand and shifting so he's fully on one side. He glances up to Mick and gives a little grin. "Morning." He stretches up and gives the Welshman a small kiss before he moves off of him completely and gets up to go shower and get dressed. He starts coffee brewing for Mick and slips into the bathroom to take care of business.

By the time he's out and done, he's actually combed his hair into neat order instead of the spiky mess it tends to be. He dresses and slips on the shoes (that feel completely foreign to him) staring at himself in the mirror like a lost puppy.

"I...I don't have to shave, right?" He touches his chin with a frown.

It takes Mick almost six minutes to force himself up, not exactly excited about waking up. Even once we realizes what it's for.

He waits for his turn for the shower, almost feeling absurd that they're still taking turns instead of just showering together. Either way, he's just glad that Ethan doesn't hog hot water. His shower is longer though, the majority of it spent cleaning his hair. He never did cut it, finding that having it longer suited him and he just liked it that way. He'd ask Ethan's opinion on it later.

Stepping out and using the last of the towels for his hair, he decided he'd just pick up hair ties and keep it out of the way. When Ethan asked his question he blinked for a moment.

"Lemme look yeah?" he asked, taking Ethan's chin in his hand, squinting and turning his face this way and that. "Nope," he smirked, turning his face to the side and planting a kiss before walking back to the bathroom. "I do though, which sucks. I 'aven't been clean shaven since I was a kid," he grumbled, brushing his fingers over the coarse hair already there. "Jenna threatened me."

Once he's done prepping himself and finally getting his hair almost dry, He's not happy about it, but he looks...wow. Not that great without the scruff. The lines on his mouth are further accented and he looks older, smoking prematurely having caused his skin to age and it's easier to notice how jaundiced his is up close. Fantastic. At least the tux looked somewhat better, still oversized on his thin frame and overall he looks ridiculous. "I feel like a fucking mannequin," he growled, hoping that no further complications would arise and feeling overly glad that they'd be home by early tomorrow. 

"This is gonna be funny." Ethan grins at the idea of a cleanly-shaven Mick and finishes his minor grooming. His is a rugged handsomeness that doesn't require much attention, and he knows it. If only people didn't put so much stock in appearance, though. He laces up and ties his shoes while Mick gets ready. By the time he is, Ethan glances over and gives a faint, wry little grin before he stands to move in for the kill...er, a kiss.

"Heh. Different without that beard going on. Still good." He straightens Mick's shirt collar a little bit before he gives a nod of approval and steps back. "You look good. Better than me, which isn't hard, though. Let's get this over with, huh? It's your sister's big day. You need to be there for her. Family is important, right?" Not that he'd know. He doesn't press the issue and hopes Mick is too busy for his train of thought to go that way.

“Right. Let's get this over with,” he appreciates Ethan's encouragement, as ridiculous as he feels. Hopefully once he gets the hair ties he'll feel somewhat better. At least Ethan liked it. That was what really mattered. And if his sister approved. And well, the kiss was an added bonus.

Waiting for the taxi made thing rougher, the driver was late and Mick only has seconds to run into a local convenience store. Just the image of some wanker running in and out of a local pharmacy and panicking because he can't find hair ties was probably the highlight of the employees' day.

Eventually though, he got himself to rights, hair up in a ponytail that surprisingly suits him, letting him relax the rest of the ride to the tiny venue she'd chosen outside, small and outside at some park, much like the place in Swansea his parents chose. That detail made him appreciate the lengths his sister went to; it must have taken a lot to convince her fiance and his family to come to Cardiff in the first place.

As they were dropped off, that nervousness came back and Mick casually gripped Ethan's hand, relaxing himself. At least 

"You alright by yourself, love? I need to check on Jenna, make sure everythin's alright. Probably wont be back until it starts. Maybe once we're done I'll let you let out some energy on the playground, eh? So long as you don't parkour on the kids," the joke is just to keep Mick's nervs down, and surprisingly, it works. "I fell bad about leavin' you with the Brits but not much I can do. If you just ignore them, they'll ignore you. They're like bears. I think it's bears. Anyway yeah, you good?"

Ethan's hand curls in added support, but he lets Mick do the gripping. He's just there passively right now, a reminder he's not stuck in this shit alone. He can only imagine what Mick would be like if he had to come over for this event alone. He murmurs quietly on the ride, leaning over to keep the words quiet.

"If you can keep from getting hammered, I'll give you a massage before the flight. Just a massage, mind you." None of that fooling around shit- they don't have time for it, anyway. He's got practiced and firm hands, so turning that down would definitely be a nearly impossible thing to do.

"I'm fine by myself, alright? Go take care of business. So long as they don't make me sit at the back or go standing room only, I won't poke the bear with a stick. Sound fair?" He gives a little grin before he removes his hand from Mick's and pats him on the shoulder. "Go get 'em and remind them that you're part of her life."

“I'll be careful with the champagne,” that was probably the best Ethan was going to get. And he'd be glad to have a massage. After the last one? Hell yeah.

It took him almost fifteen mintues to find someone not stuck up and nasty to ask where his sister was, turns out it was one of Jenna's friends and in a sigh of relief he quickly made his way to the park's ladies room, not exactly the most sanitary place but it made sense.

She looked beautiful. He had no idea that Sackpoole had managed to find their mother's dress but it looked just like the ones in the photos that had once littered the home. She said she visited a while before Mick arrived and already picked up her things, which made sense. Her brown hair was done in some strange way that accented her face, make up was lovely, it made Mick almost forget how much he downright hated the man she was to marry. She was happy. That's all he cared about right now.

She gave him a mini inspection, fixing his jacket and seeming satisfied in the fact that he shaved, and seemed satisfied that Ethan came despite what happened the night before. She liked him, which was what mattered.

It would only be a few more minutes anyway, he just hoped Ethan wasn't bored waiting without him. It was the slowest beating of time, but Jenna's confidence kept him from completely drowning.

And then the time came. Distracted by the tampon dispenser, Mick jumped when Jenna hissed his name and managed to shock him back, letting Jenna lead until he managed to set himself to rights, walking down the white roll of tissue paper and suddenly feeling a swell of pride for her. She managed to find something good, despite the bad parts and turn it into love and a mutual adoration that Mick felt himself suddenly relating to. Reaching the end of the way, he knew he had to part and let her join her husband, but not before he nearly yanked her into a hug.

"Fy chwaer wyf yn falch ohonoch chi. Caru chi," he whispered, the words almost flawless on his tongue, like he'd practiced the Welsh and didn't want his rustiness to impair the message. "Mum and Dad would be too." 

Letting her go would be hard but he was willing to do it if it made her happy. Stepping aside, moving so that he was out of the way and managing to get to where Ethan was. Despite the people around him, he was incredibly happy for once. She deserved this. She deserved what he couldn't have. 

Ethan stays out of trouble and stays to himself, although he's approached once and asked if he's lost. That gets a narrowing of the eyes and a sharp, quick reply that he's a guest and it's about time they fucked off back to their crowd. Talk about a disgusting bunch of people. He's itching to get back to Detroit, back to his 'burb, back to his friends, back to people who don't question him because of appearance. He's never dealt with anything this severe from so many people before. He figures it's because they probably don't get a lot of outsiders, no matter where they're from. He knows how hostile many British attitudes are to Muslims, and to other minorities as well. Considering he's a bastard of two cultures, it would be seen as even worse, raised in hamburg or not. He'll play it as best as he can, though, and these people will not make him feel ashamed to be in his own skin, decorated though it is.

He doesn't drink, but sips on water instead. This habit is an odd one and gets him a lot of questions from many people quite frequently, especially when someone invites him home and offers him something to drink. Water, water, juice. That's about all that's on his menu, and some people just can't handle that.

Finally, it's time. Ethan finds a seat and is not going to let anyone tell him to move. He saves the aisle for Mick so that the man can easily get in and get up again should he need to for pictures, which he's positive will happen. This isn't his gig and he's merely a newcomer and a cursory observer, after all, not a permanent fixture in anybody's life yet.

He goes through the motions and behaves himself, reassuring Mick by leaning over to whisper. "She looks gorgeous. You should be proud."

“I am. Shit, more than proud. And 'onestly, he gave her the spoon, so I don't 'ave much t' complain about. As much of a dick as he is, he cares about 'er. So I mean, I guess it's not all bad. Guess I got used to 'er bein' like my kid instead of my sister. She's 'appy though. She deserves this.”

It's rare for Mick to outright admit something like that. Listening to the Reverend go on, going past the “I do”s and thankfully ignoring Welsh tradition, the kiss was made, excitement was raised, and overall, it was done.

They had time to stay for the reception, thought Mick might have fibbed when he said it could only be for an hour. Jenna understood, which was lovely and a friend of her's offered to drive them to the airport, which was welcomed by the Welshman and wouldn't put strain on Jenna to worry about them getting there on time. Mick liked to be early anyway, check in would be a hassle and their flight would last into the night, so it was more an excuse to sleep until their flight arrived.

When toasts were made Mick kept his promise of sobriety, a glass of water instead of campaign and getting Ethan the same. Made things simpler, once he was alone with his whiskey he could drink as much as he wanted. He stayed for a majority of the after party, Jenna finally able to separate herself to say goodbye to her brother, even pulling Ethan into a hug and making him promise to take care of Mick and having Mick promise to visit more often. Reg kept his distance, as did the other Brits, and in the end the wedding went off without a hitch. 

At least now, they could slip into something more comfortable. The friend was a bit younger than Jenna and didn't ave anyone waiting for her at the party, so it made sense why didn't seem to mind driving them back to the hotel and wait until it was time to go. The sudden relief of being back at the hotel seemed to calm Mick further, and packing his things seemed not as ridiculous as he thought it'd be despite the amount. Made no sense why he brought so much for a three day trip.

"Right," the Welshman wiped at his face, still unused to how smooth he felt and he checked out, glad that the lack of them doing really anything in the room meant less cleaning charges and issues afterword. Really, he just wanted to be in his flat more than anything. "Said goodbye to Jenna again and got that squared away. You ready to go home?"

The hug is unexpected, but he returns it in good spirit and swears to Jenna he will do exactly that. She doesn't know him, thankfully, and so he'll just act like some kind of social rebel and leave her to wonder just why her brother fell for him. The water is refreshing on a sore throat, a constant thing he deals with. Some surgical complication, surely. There are a lot of those, not that Mick would know. When the weather gets colder and he's stiff and aching more, though, he'll probably find out quickly enough.

Ethan bids his goodbyes to those who gave him the time of day and follows Mick to the car, and then back to the hotel. Once there, he changes quickly back to his good old normal- running shoes, cargo pants, and a plain black shirt. This one actually has sleeves, for once. He leaves his hair flattened and packs up his backpack, gently placing his favorite and worn book in an easily-accessible pocket so he can fish it out on the plane. He figures he'll offer it to Mick eventually, if the Welshman hasn't read it.

"I'm ready if you are, Spätzchen. Home's calling my name." He stretches out his shoulders and slings the backpack into place, checking his phone quickly for the time. "Customs will take me a while, and so will security. For obvious reasons. Foreign country, not as easily slipped through, you know?"

“ They probably wont clear my whiskey so who knows how long it'll take me. Damn it I'm taking it 'ome one way or another. S'good brand, that Penderyn. But no, yeah I get it. S'why I told Jenna we 'ad to leave.”

He feels strange leaving Wales again, but he's come to embrace a different home. As much as he loves places like Swansea or even Cardiff, but Detroit had been his adopted place, more than Virginia ever was. Strange, really. He'd only been living there for several months and nw he was calling it home.

Grabbing his things he lead Ethan out to the car loop, Jenna's friend eventually pulling up and driving them down to the airport, where at least fifteen hours and a very hefty parking bill later they'd be back in Mick's Fusion and bursting through their apartment doors only half an hour later, Mick exhausted and Ethan probably much the same. A check of Emails, making sure a client hadn't called and being sure nothing was missing would be priority, and then Mick unpacking his whiskey first thing and setting it on a place on honor on his nightstand the second. And then more sleeping, not adjusted to a schedule yet and crashing because of it.

At least they'd be home.

Getting through the foreign airport is a hassle, but he makes it happen. The flight is uneventful and he sleeps most of it, passed out with earbuds in unless Mick wakes him. Upon arrival back home he's groggy, dehydrated, and his voice is more or less gone due to lack of water. He's happy to get home and take a drink before he curls up on the bed without even getting under the blankets, passing out.

The next day, he's packing as Mick wakes up. It's with a grin of reassurance he promises on everything he is that he'll be back. He walks over and gives the man a deep kiss before caressing a thumb down his cheek and along his jaw before muttering a three-word sentence in German and heading out the door. 

Life calls, but he WILL be back. Not like Mick doesn't have his number or anything.

Fin.


End file.
